


Not Your Momma's Fairytale

by AraSigyrn



Category: Adam Lambert (Musician), American Idol RPF, Kris Allen (Musician)
Genre: AU, Community: kradambigbang, M/M, Schmoop, mentions of drug use, violence and mentions of fantasy horror
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-01-12
Updated: 2011-01-12
Packaged: 2017-10-14 17:12:52
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 37,844
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/151584
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AraSigyrn/pseuds/AraSigyrn
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Meeting the love of your life in high school is one cliche that Adam Lambert never thought would apply to him. He also didn't expect the love of his life to be five inches tall but one accidental kidnapping later and Adam is sharing his life with Kris Allen, a real life fairy.</p><p>Kris becomes Adam's best friend, room-mate and #1 cheerleader as Adam goes from overweight and closeted in San Diego to slim and fabulous in LA. He's there for Adam's first love and the start of his music career but when Adam competes on American Idol, he may have set them on a course to heartbreak and seperation.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Not Your Momma's Fairytale

**Author's Note:**

> [Illustrations post](http://pandora-gold.livejournal.com/25252.html) by the talented and wonderful [](http://www.livejournal.com/users/pandora_gold//profile)[**pandora_gold**](http://www.livejournal.com/users/pandora_gold//)

The only reason Adam goes on the stupid camping trip is because of Keith. Adam may only be sixteen but he's already coming to embrace the fact that he prefers to experience the wilderness through National Geographic and subway posters. Keith, who is totally going to be the love of Adam's life because Adam has never felt like this before, is nearly seventeen and the picture of an All-American-Boy. He's tall, perfect skin, bleached-blond hair and bright blue eyes. He's actually done some modeling for a real (surfer) magazine which Adam might have picked up like a hundred copies of.

Adam might have a thing for him.

The camping trip is targeted towards Adam's entire grade. It's an extra-curricular activity which makes it an easy sell to his parents. Adam brings his permission slip home and hands it straight over. His mom looks at him and checks him for a fever before she signs it. "You'll have to ask your dad to take you shopping for camping gear, hon. I don't think the GI Joe tent is going to cut it for this trip. Mr Campion seems to be really enthusiastic about this."

Adam contemplates the tent (a relic from a well-meaning cousin for Neil's tenth birthday) and agrees reluctantly.

His father is going through a phase of outdoor enthusiasm and he's thrilled when Adam tells him about the camping trip when they grab milkshakes one Saturday. It's the first shared shopping trip that they both enjoy since Adam discovered the make-up counter. (He doesn't actually buy much makeup but Adam _dreams_.) Adam's dad is cool with his weird son but they still dance around the fact that Adam isn't really the jock/honors student that his dad thought he'd be.

It's still nice to just talk about something that they actually have in common. His dad is thinking about joining an outdoors club, assuming he can find one that isn't full of crazy survivalists. Keith, in one of those sit-com twists that happen _entirely_ too often in Adam's life, turns out to be the son of a friend of a friend. Adam decides not to mention Keith after that; he's known he was gay since fourth grade but there's a difference between knowing and showing and, despite his best intentions, Adam has utterly failed to come out to his parents every year on his birthday.

But he does get confirmation that Keith is going to be going on this camping trip which is awesome and perfect and means that Adam can test his gaydar on him while they're out in the woods. It also means that Adam doesn't have to go far if he crashes and burns and makes a total fool of himself and has to run away to live in a cave somewhere. Why yes, Adam does have self-esteem issues.

In his defense, Adam is sixteen, fat, freckled and closeted. He's in high school with a load of ridiculously hot, tragically straight boys and the only class he doesn't spend wanting to be anywhere else is Music. He doesn't know what he wants to do with his life but he'd really, really like a boyfriend at some point.

The camping trip will be good for him, Adam decides in front of the bathroom mirror on the Thursday evening before they leave. He's not ruling out a sudden conversion to the wonders of nature (Keith could totally convince him with rugged outdoor sex) and Adam has a rocking new belt with clips and hooks on. If the shop had only sold it in silver, Adam would have bought a hundred.

He has a rucksack full of infinitely less awesome but more practical things to keep him from coming back dead. He has some awesome combats and an mp3 player. Adam is going to rock this. His mom drops him off outside the school at unholy a.m. on Friday morning and Adam drags his bags over to the battered school bus and Mr Campion beams at him. "Good morning, Adam."

There is no way that Adam is up to dealing with such a revoltingly cheerful morning person so he grimaces in a vaguely smile-like way and shuffles over to take a seat.

Mr Campion is the Geography teacher and a throwback to some 1950s ideal of what a scout leader should be. Adam doesn't really hate him but he doesn't like him either; Mr Campion's enthusiasm is scarily sincere and he has a way of smiling that makes Adam think of Hannibal Lecter. He spends the whole trip trying to organize a sing a long which Adam would be totally down with if he wasn't the only one with any grasp of pitch or you know, _melody_.

"Yo, Lambert." Clint, who desperately aspires to be a jock, leans over the back of his seat. He and Adam have a cautious understanding.

"Ask me to sing Grease and I will hurt you." Adam greets him.

It turns out Clint, who knows and admits he can't sing, wants to listen to Adam's mp3 player. Adam can totally approve of his good taste and they listen to Bon Jovi as the bus chugs along the freeway and Mr Campion starts another round of "1000 Bottles of beer on the wall". Keith is sitting sprawled out in the back, legs kicked out as he laughs and Adam thinks that maybe camping won't suck after all.

By Saturday evening, Adam is swearing that every trip he takes after this, he's going to stay in hotels - hotels that have running water, air conditioning and cable TV. Mr Campion's hard-on for all things 1950 turns out to include camping and camping equipment. No flashlights, no mp3 player, no Gameboys and no cell phones. It's not that Adam's expecting many calls; but what if a bear attacks? Mr Campion spent three hours on Friday night trying to light a fire with sticks as the temperature nosedived and everyone huddled in their sleeping bags and waited to freeze to death. It had taken another half an hour of them promising not to tell before the matches came out.

It's probably the coldest March that Adam's ever experienced. Mr Campion is reminding them all how to avoid frostbite. Keith has been hanging out with his fellow jocks and he hasn't even noticed Adam exists. Adam has been bitten by mosquitoes the size of 747s, ripped his jacket on briars and he's covered in mud up to his ass and the lake they're camping by is below freezing cold which means Adam can't get clean.

Adam has never been and stayed dirty so long before and he's really not liking it. His skin itches and no amount of positive thinking - people pay a fortune to have mud baths at spas - is going to change that. He hates camping, hates tramping through the same muddy little forest while Mr. Campion bounds ahead of them with binoculars and cargo pants with the pockets full of raisins. Mr Campion has been eating raisins like there's no tomorrow and Adam does not want to be anywhere near him when they take effect. He does pity Clint, who took the tent beside Mr Campion and hasn't found anyone dumb enough to switch with him.

"Look, boys! A prime example of _Photinus pyralis_!" Mr Campion is pointing excitedly at what looks like ...a bug. Adam is unenthused. "They're not fluorescent in the daylight of course. Tonight we'll try and catch some! I brought enough jam jars for everyone."

Adam wonders if this is actually a hidden camera show.

"Hey, hey, Lambert," Adam glances over his shoulder and nearly trips over his feet. It's Keith, talking to him and this is the closest Adam's been to him since this lousy trip started. "Listen, we're thinking of having a little fun tonight. You in?"

There's only one answer to that. "Sure!"

'Fun' in this case turns out not to mean 'group orgy' which is disappointing, but it does mean 'weed' which is cool. Adam's never smoked anything stronger than his uncle's Turkish cigarettes before but it's not like he's going to say no.

Mr Campion has actually brought jam jars, huge airtight beakers straight out of the 50s, but it's cool because they can just wander into the trees with the stupid jars and Keith's buddy Frank is already rolling some rotten-brown colored leaves into a joint. Getting stoned turns out to be really easy; Adam doesn't even choke on the smoke the way Clint does.

It feels amazing, like Adam's blowing out all the tension and the misery out with the smoke. The whole nervous atmosphere just evaporates as they pass the joint around. Frank drops it and Keith snorts and calls him an asshole. Frank just flips him off which is weird 'cause Frank's the kind of guy that even the ex-Marine gym teacher doesn't want to piss off. Weed is awesome.

Adam starts feeling pretty hazy after the second puff, the forest starts looking pretty neat after the third and Clint starts giggling like a pre-schooler after the fourth. The bright dancing lights start after the sixth.

 _Huh,_ Adam thinks, _Isn't it supposed to be LSD that makes you trip?_ It's a really weird feeling; Adam knows that something's gone wrong and that he should definitely be worried. He _knows_ that. He just can't actually manage to worry. He thinks that someone should mention this in the PSAs about drugs. Then the lights get brighter and Adam stops trying to think at all.

The sun is shining when Adam wakes up with his first ever hangover. The other guys are scattered around the clearing and he can hear Mr Campion shouting. Adam is too wrapped up in his headache to be able to process details but he manages to grab his stuff and shuffle back to his tent on autopilot. Mr Campion has lost it completely. He's cursing up a storm and there are a bunch of park rangers and the bus is waiting.

Taking down the tents actually turns out to be harder than pitching them was. Adam manages to get his down and stuffed into the bag it came by judicious amounts of sitting on it. He spends the whole trip back completely focused on not throwing up. Keith lasts about three miles before he's spewing out the back window and, just _ewww_. Adam is willing to forgive a lot for a modern Greek God but high-speed projectile vomiting is a deal breaker. Adam moves up to sit in front row.

Adam's head hurts, just thinking about food makes his stomach cramp and he has to focus on breathing as Keith throws up everything he's eaten for the last week. There's outraged honking from whatever poor asshole was unfortunate enough to be driving behind him. Adam's mp3 player isn't working, he's really hoping that it's just the batteries but given that he had found it in a swampy puddle when he was packing, Adam's not really expecting a happy ending.

Musing darkly on how much camping sucked and trying to remember more than the vague impressions of bright glowing lights takes up the rest of the trip. There's no sing-along which might be enough to convince Adam that there is a god. Mr Campion sends them all straight home with the dark promise that their parents are going to hear about this. His mom's gone out so Adam lets himself in and shuffles up to his room and crashes out gratefully in his own bed.

Someone's knocking on the door; a furious rat-tat-tat and Adam groans and rolls over. He drags a pillow over his head and waits for Neil or his mom to answer the door. The knocking gets faster until the taps are running together into an angry buzz. Adam lifts the pillow and it takes a second for his sleep-foggy brain to figure out that the tapping isn't the door; it's something in the room.

Adam stumbles out of bed; still half-asleep and hoping to stop the knocking and get back to bed before he wakes up. He nearly trips over his duffel and steps over it, cursing to himself. Then he stops and looks down again. The duffel is twitching sideways across the floor. Adam paws at his eyes and looks down again, the duffel is several inches further across the floor.

He's never, ever doing drugs again.

The duffel bumps into Adam's discarded sneakers and gets stuck. It still vibrates in time with the increasing frequency of the tapping. Adam pokes at the bag with his toe and it stops for a second then the tapping starts in a fresh frenzy that jerks the bag so hard that the seams strain.

"I've gone insane then," Adam says blankly. The bag jumps towards him this time and Adam startles backwards. He thinks about running away but the idea of being chased around his room by his camping bag is just too much for him. He grabs the zipper as it hops again and has to field the jam jar as it erupts out of the bag in a cloud of unwashed clothes. (Seriously, Adam was there for like a day and a half _tops_. How the fuck did he manage to dirty fifteen socks?)

The jam jar is glowing, which really doesn't help with Adam's growing conviction that he's actually gone insane. There's a glowing ball of light inside, about the size of a tennis ball and Adam's first thought? _I thought fireflies didn't glow by day?_

The glowing thing is bouncing around the jam jar like Speedy Gonzales and it takes two hands to hold it. Adam's getting jerked across the floor and his hair is in his eyes and he really, really wants to believe this is a dream. The jar is starting to crack around the lid. Adam scrabbles at the lid and pops it open and the light shoots out like Roadrunner dodging one of Wile E Coyote's traps.

It ricochets off the ceiling, zooms sideways and rattles Adam's window. His curtains rattle along the pole as the light zips back across the room to shake the door. Adam is backing towards his bed, wondering a little hysterically if he should be calling a hospital. What's the proper procedure for hallucinations anyway? Should he be calling 911 or elevating his feet or what? Drugs should totally come with a manual.

The light gives up on rattling the door (seriously, what's up with that? It's like the size of a tennis ball and Adam's door is solid pine) and zips back across to hover in front of Adam's face. This close, Adam can see that it isn't actually a globe, it's a _fairy_.

It's a boy fairy. He's like five inches tall, with scruffy brown hair, the sort of golden tan that Adam would sell his brother to have and big brown eyes. He's also not wearing a lot, just sandals and a kinda leaf-loincloth thing, which means Adam gets a good look at just how ripped he is. If he was like twelve times taller, Adam would be in love.

"Where am I? Who are you?" The fairy has a surprising deep voice, with Southern accent.

Adam is still staring a little and the fairy huffs, wings beating harder and glitter sparkles through the air. "You're sparkly."

The really sad thing is that that isn't the stupidest thing Adam's ever said to a hot guy. The fairy flushes, actually goes pink across his stupidly perfect cheekbones. He starts to glow again and zips back across to the door. Adam hurries over as the door starts to rattle in its frame. He gets it open before the fairy can knock it down (and it's really kinda terrifying that it looks like he might be able to do that).

The fairy shoots down the stairs and through the door into the backyard. Adam follows him, a lot slower because he's still hungover and not exactly well co-ordinated. He's expecting that the fairy will be long gone by the time he makes it to the back door. Instead the fairy is hovering just on the edge of the patio, about six inches from the ground. It's hard to tell but Adam thinks he's staring at the orange tree.

Before Adam can think of anything to say (and let's face it, coming up with something appropriate to say to the fairy who just escaped a jam jar and your dirty socks is going to take a while), he spots movement in the overgrown ivy that ate the fence between his backyard and Ms Rosen's. It's Tiddles, Ms Rosen's fat tabby tomcat and he's doing the weird lashing thing with his tail that cats do just before they pounce.

Adam doesn't exactly know the fairy or exactly how he wound up in Adam's jam jar but he's feeling responsible and Tiddles is like, evil in feline form. His plan to snatch the fairy out of harm's way is well-intentioned but it completely fails to take into account a) Adam's hang-over, b) Adam's nearly complete lack of co-ordination and c) the fairy is _fast_. Adam trips and crashes into the ivy and the fairy zips up into the leaves. Tiddles shoots back across the ivy fence, so it isn't a total loss even if Adam has destroyed all hope of looking like anything but a complete dork in front of his fairy.

"Are you okay?" The fairy flutters down to hover in front of Adam's face.

"Peachy," Adam growls, pushing himself upright. "Don't I look fine?"

The fairy tips his head and gives Adam a considering once-over that makes Adam itchy with the awareness that his T-shirt is rank, his sweatpants are hanging low enough that his belly is bulging out a little over the waistband and his hair and skin are grubby and greasy. He looks (and feels) disgusting.

"You want to come back inside?" Adam asks hopefully. He really doesn't want to get caught talking to a fairy in the backyard. Best case scenario is Neil and a lifetime of 'Disney extra' jokes, Worst case is his grandma and the not-funny 'fairy' jokes. Adam shudders.

The fairy looks around, rising higher and darting over to inspect the tree, the overgrown flower beds and up to peek over the fence. Adam waits until the fairy flies back to hover beside him then opens the back door for him. The fairy ventures into the kitchen, skimming over the hob and lingering by the toaster before going to investigate behind the fridge. Adam's mom has been planning to clean back there since Adam was in middle school so Adam isn't surprised or anything when he shoots back out looking traumatized. He looks around at the radio, poking at the buttons until the radio hisses to life on dead air and the fairy zips backwards, looking startled.

"That-what's that?" He has a really nice voice, low without being stupidly deep or raspy with just a hint of a Southern drawl. He flits around a little and Adam has to curl his hands into fists to keep from trying to grab him again. "Is that a goblin trap? What sort of a place is this?"

"It's my house," Adam says carefully. "Well, technically it's my mom's house but I live here too."

"Where is this?"

"San Diego." Adam says. "California."

"What? Where's California? Who's land is this? Who rules here? I've never heard of 'California'. Is this a goblin trap? Where are my family? Where's Katy? Why did you bring me here?"

"I didn't mean to!" Adam flails a little. "I don't remember bringing you here."

"Well you did!" The fairy doesn't sound angry exactly, more frustrated and scared. "You trapped me in that glass cage and you wouldn't let me out and you wouldn't listen when I asked you to let me go! You wouldn't let me _out_ and it's been more than a day and my family-"

Adam's gut drops into his sneakers as the fairy chokes up on the word 'family'. The glow is dimming and the fairy drops to sit on the kitchen table and buries his face in his hands. "Okay, okay, just hang on. We're doing this all wrong."

The fairy looks confused, head tipped back so he can stare up at Adam and Adam holds out his hand. "Hi, I'm Adam Lambert."

There's a pause as the fairy looks at Adam's hand then at his own. "I'm Kris, Kris Allen and ummmm..." He manages to get his hand around Adam's index finger and shakes. "It's nice to meet you?"

"You too," Adam says honestly. "Look, I'm really sorry about this. There were drugs, I was confused. Actually, I honestly don't remember what happened last night. I remember like, lights and music which is weird because it's supposed to be LSD that makes you trip, I'm like 99% certain?"

"That was..." Kris hesitates and rubs at his eyes. "That was my family. There was this weird smoke. Katy thought it was a Goblin trap. Everyone was flying around. Then everything got really hazy and um, I fell asleep."

"So your whole family was there?" Adam starts the coffee machine and tries really hard to remember through the fog of weed-induced amnesia. He has the horrible feeling that he might have been giggling.

"Yeah," Kris draws up his knees, his sparkle down to a dull glow that makes him look even smaller. "We were on vacation. Somewhere private and quiet."

"So you don't live in those woods?"

"No," Kris shakes his head. "We were traveling for a day or two before we got there."

"A day or two." Adam is getting a really bad feeling here. "Where are you from?"

Kris sounds Southern, that narrows it down to like half the country and Adam's already thinking gas prices and wondering if his mom's going to require a kidney as collateral. He's probably going to be broke for the rest of the year but Kris has managed to cram a lot of cute into his tiny and Adam _did_ kidnap him.

"Ummm..." Kris says, curling up a little tighter.

"...seriously? Please, please tell me this is some sort of fairy fucked-up humor!"

"I know where I live." Kris snaps, before curling gossamer wings around himself and admitting to his knees, "I just don't know where it is for humans."

"Oh fuck me." Adam taps the coffee machine, he is totally not up to dealing with this without epic levels of caffeine. "You don't have any idea where you live?"

"I _know_ where I live," Kris insists. "I just don't know how to get there."

"Well, where do you live?"

" _Alfarhame_." Kris says like it's the most normal thing in the world.

Adam wonders if his mom would notice if he broke into the liquor cabinet. Coffee is not nearly strong enough to help him cope with this. "And Alf-er-ham is where, exactly?"

"The heart of the Summerlands." Kris waves a hand, wings fanning out. "It's warm, there's the Forest, the Lake and the Mountains."

"....maybe...what if I got you back to the woods? The place from last night?"

Kris curls in on himself again and shakes his head, Adam pours himself a cup of coffee to buy himself time to think. "Why not? I mean, your family have got to be going nuts by now. It'll take us a few hours but-"

"They won't be looking." Kris says quietly.

Adam snaps his mouth shut and sits down, chin on his arms. This close Kris looks even tinier and completely miserable. Adam chews his lip and feels incredibly awkward. Kris wipes his eyes on the edge of his wings and swallows a few times. "When they couldn't find me by sunrise, they'll assume that it was a Goblin attack. Katy will take them home. They're probably at home by now."

"They're just going to abandon you?" Adam stares at the tiny adorable fairy and honestly cannot wrap his mind around it. If he had a Kris, well, he wouldn't lose his Kris but if Kris went missing, Adam would take the state apart to find him.

"It's not safe." Kris says simply. "We've got- I have a kid brother. My mom's been ill and it wouldn't be safe for them to stay there if there are Goblins."

Adam still doesn't get it but Kris' eyes are wet and Adam is a little thoughtless at times but he's not an asshole. He sits back and pretends not to notice as Kris wipes his eyes on his wings again. "So, ...breakfast?"

He looks around the kitchen. "What do fairies eat anyway?"

The answer, it turns out, is "a _lot_ ". Adam watches Kris eat a sesame-seed bagel with sausage and cream cheese in horrified fascination. Kris proceeds to eat two apples and drink a glass of milk that's bigger than he is before flopping down to sprawl out on the table with a happy smile. Kris has a really contagious smile and Adam grins as he stacks everything in the dishwasher.

"I'm afraid to ask where you're putting all that." Adam comments dryly. Kris rolls his head and pats his belly with a satisfied groan. He's adorable and Adam really wishes he had a camera. "How are you so tiny if you eat like twice what I do?"

Kris launches into a long, rambling explanation that boils down to "I haven't eaten since yesterday." Adam breathes a sigh of relief; if Kris eats that much food a day, then keeping him secret shouldn't be a problem. His mom won't notice a little extra food but hiding someone who's eating more than Neil is just not possible.

That Adam is going to keep Kris a secret isn't in question; Kris turns out to be totally on board with this which is a bonus but Adam's not thinking about why he wants Kris to stay a secret. Instead he turns his attention to finishing off the last of his coffee and teasing Kris about the faint bulge of his belly.

By the time Adam's mom gets home, they've got the beginnings of an understanding. Kris is pretty quiet, very curious and has already tidied Adam's room twice. Adam has discovered that Kris is a sucker for chocolate and ice-cream (even if Adam should put down a tea towel before letting him loose on a carton of Häagen-Dazs).

His mom doesn't see Kris and she's so pleased Adam's room is tidy that she orders in pizza. Adam manages to smuggle Kris two slices and by the time his mom orders him to bed, Kris is too stuffed to fly properly, looping lazily up the stairs ahead of him. Adam has to bite his lips to hide the smile.

He's exhausted himself, too tired to think of where Kris is going to sleep as he washes his teeth and stumbles over to the bed. With the overhead light off, the only light is Kris' glow and it's a warm, soft light, like a candle. Shadows jump as Kris moves around, Adam hears some splashing from the direction of the glass of water on his dresser and Kris' glow dims. Adam snuggles into his pillow and the last thing he hears is Kris' soft "Good night."

Adam wakes up late the next morning, thankfully without the hangover. He rolls over and looks around his suspiciously tidy room. There's no sign of Kris and Adam sits bolt upright. The window is open and he can hear his mom singing downstairs. He's not sure if he imagined Kris or if Kris left early. It's stupid to feel hurt, Adam tells himself as he stares at the window and fiercely resists the urge to go looking for Kris. He pretty much kidnapped Kris, got him abandoned by his family and-

And there's a glow, almost undetectable in the sunlight, coming from the top drawer of Adam's dresser.

"Kris?" Adam says hesitantly.

Kris' head pops out of the drawer and he yawns, wings fanning out and beating lazily as he stretches. Adam can hear his joints popping and he smiles wide and ridiculous with relief. "Good morning, sleepyhead."

Kris mumbles something that's probably rude, words slurred into incomprehensible Southern drawl. Adam laughs and throws back his covers. Kris pouts but it breaks into an answering smile despite his best efforts. He flies out of the drawer and it's only then that Adam realizes that Kris must have slept there last night. Oh god. "Kris? Tell me you didn't sleep in there last night?"

"Um, yeah?" Kris flutters around his shoulder and rubs at his eyes. "I was tired."

"Umm..."

"It was really convenient," Kris continues, sounding genuinely enthusiastic. "Actually, would you mind if I slept there like full time?"

"Ah...no? That's cool." Adam says faintly. "But, you know, you should have your own bed. Clothes, bed-clothes. Like sheets and stuff. We can hit up Goodwill this afternoon. Um, you wanna maybe grab a towel from the press in the meantime?"

"Sure. And thanks!" Kris zips out of the room and Adam hears rummaging around from the general direction of the press. He bolts across the room and opens the drawer, frantically emptying the whole thing into the drawer below; all his underwear, two wrinkled copies of Esquire and the packet of condoms he bought in a fit of optimism on his birthday.

He's just finished stuffing the last of his boxers (the really comfortable ones that Neil dyed pink) in when Kris zooms back in, trailing a bath towel that's like bigger than Adam; he looks like the world's fluffiest, cuddliest ghost. He's managed to wrap himself in the towel so he flies straight into Adam's shoulder and Adam has to catch him and the towel.

It takes like five minutes to untangle Kris from the towel because it turns out that Kris is ticklish. Adam, as a card-carrying big brother, can't be expected to overlook such an obvious weakness. Kris has a great laugh, warm and full-bodied and totally not self-conscious He manages to dodge Adam's fingers and dives down Adam's T-shirt, a little giggling lump near Adam's heart.

He's warm and soft and trusting and Adam can't keep the sappy smile off his face. Kris is really kind of awesome. Adam squashes the floaty happy feeling and tries not to think beyond this moment. This, right here, is good. That's all he can ask for.

They don't make it to Goodwill until Wednesday and even then, they don't buy sheets. Kris has managed to fit the entire bath towel into the drawer and he's made himself a weird kinda nest and he burrows in and the towel is kinda old so his glow shines through, casting patterns on the walls and giving Adam's David Bowie poster this awesome overlay that just looks _fierce_.

Kris might be the easiest person in the world to share a room with; he's small, quiet and laid back about just about everything. Adam finds himself talking to Kris about random shit and it turns out that Kris can _sing_. Fairies apparently don't get FM, because Kris spends Monday and Tuesday orbiting Adam's shitty old radio. The sound is for shit but Adam shows him how to tune it and Kris' expression when he realities that there's _more stations_ is something beautiful that Adam is going to treasure for the rest of his life.

They do still need to make the trip to Goodwill though, just not for sheets. Kris needs clothes and it turns out that the whole leaf-cloth thing does actually wither and Kris can't replace it because he can't find any weeds (sorry, flowers) that he knows the spell for. Adam spends Tuesday night explaining modern fashion. Kris throws a cushion that's three times his size at Adam when he tries in all seriousness to explain sewing.

Adam's mom has a old sewing kit that she doesn't really use and Adam gets it out and tries not to laugh when Kris picks up a needle. He can fit his thumb through the eye and he asks Adam a lot of questions which leads to Adam emptying out his closet, showing off his favorite well-worn jeans and glittery t-shirts and breaking out his secret stash of Vogues. (Why yes, Adam embraces the stereotype. In secret but still, embracing.)

"Pants go down to the ankle, right?" Kris checks, chewing thoughtfully on his lower lip.

"Yeah and see, here in this one..." Adam rifles through the magazines. Kris isn't the fashion-obsessive that Adam is but he's an awesome listener. He asks all the right questions and makes some really good suggestions and is just _there_ in a way most people aren't when Adam starts to talk about his ideas.

It isn't until the next morning that Adam decides that they need to go to Goodwill. Or possibly Home Depot, for a _fly-swatter_.

He wakes up to find his favorite pair of jeans neatly folded over his desk chair, minus the bottom six inches of the right leg. It's been neatly cut away, in a carefully straight line just below the knee. There are a few scattered scraps of denim across the top of the dresser.

Adam is still frozen in horror when Kris flies in from the bathroom. He's wearing jeans - baggy, too long for him and being held up with a safety pin and the denim looks familiar. Kris looks good in jeans but the desecration of his favorite jeans is still too fresh for Adam to appreciate. Adam doesn't have so many clothes that flatter him that he can afford to lose those jeans.

When he explains this to Kris, Kris tips his head to one side like a particularly adorable puppy and says "But you don't need clothes to look good. You always look good."

There's actually nothing Adam can say to argue with that.

Kris slots himself into Adam's life so easily that by the time Adam goes back to school the next week, he's actually forgotten what it was like without him. High school is still high school and Adam's still floundering like the worst kind of ugly duckling. It gets easier to deal with the casual cruelty of his peers with Kris buzzing around the ceilings. He stays out of sight, hiding in Adam's locker if it's a gloomy day and he pays attention. Adam starts scrupulously avoiding the librarian when she comes looking for missing books. Kris is a good guy and he always puts them back when he's done. Adam's still not explaining that to her.

Catching Kris up on his various subjects proves to be a good reviewing tool and Adam does pretty well in tests. He learns a lot about Kris in turn; Kris can dim his glow so he's nearly invisible, he's actually about as strong as Adam but a lot faster and Kris can _sing_. He starts by singing along with the radio, first when he thinks Adam isn't listening then more confidently over time.

He still sleeps in the bath-towel, but he's gotten good at sewing which is just as well, since the only clothes his size that Adam can afford are old KenTM outfits from Goodwill and yard sales. He doesn't actually need to shave, which is good because Adam can't think of any way to MacGuyver a normal-sized razor into something that Kris could use without cutting his head off. His hair doesn't actually seem to grow that much, staying scruffy and just a little too long.

They actually shower together. Sorta. Kinda. In an non-creepy way. Adam offered to run the shower for him when he wanted and they'd tried that for a few days before Adam's mom came in to switch it off. Kris, only half-clean, had to hide behind a loofah and was still blushing the next day. So he just uses the shower at the same time, staying on the soap dish where Adam keeps his shower gel. His wings are almost a cloak when they're wet, dark opaque gold hanging down past Kris' knees. Adam doesn't look and he doesn't think Kris _would_.

The singing starts as a distraction from the fact that Kris is right there and _naked_ and if he turns around then he'll see Adam naked and that's just terrifying. So Adam sings, random snatches of song to distract himself. Kris joins in when Adam sings Micheal Jackson's 'Beat It' and the impromptu duet becomes a habit and the best thing in a lot of Adam's days.

In the summer, Adam's dad makes him get a job in Starbucks. "You need to be earning money, son. You need to be contributing to the household."

Adam doesn't _mind_ his job; he's still pimply and fat and closeted but having Kris to talk to makes dealing with other people easier. It's amazing how much easier it is to be himself now that he has someone who knows him and likes him for being himself.

"Do I need to contribute?" Kris asks after Adam's grumbled about his dad and reluctantly started work on his résumé.

"No, no," Adam is reading one of those how-to books about how he should be 'optimizing' his résumé and getting more confused by the second. "It's not like you could get a job. It's just that it's not fair to Mom, you know? I can't keep just expecting her to pay for everything. It's just, part of growing up I guess."

"Part of growing up," Kris says thoughtfully and Adam is so wrapped up in the book that he doesn't pay as much attention as he should to the expression on Kris' face.

They've agreed that Kris won't come with Adam for his first shift. Adam's going to have a lot to take in and Kris would really just be a distraction. It's the good choice, the mature choice and Adam starts regretting it before they give him an apron. He gets through the first shift and grabs the bus home.

His mom is waiting to congratulate him and has cooked him dinner and everything. It's cool and they get a chance to actually talk which is even cooler. Adam's mom is cool and he loves her to pieces but they've both been very busy lately and Kris has been eating up most of Adam's spare time.

"You know I love you," she says which makes Adam freeze.

"Yeah, of course!"

"You know that I'll love you no matter what, right?"

"Yeah," Adam says more hesitantly.

"And you know that you can tell me anything, right?" His mom presses, reaching out to squeeze his hand.

"Yeah," Adam looks down and there's an uncomfortable stretch of time before his mom squeezes his hand again and lets go. Adam feels like she's still waiting for something and he opens his mouth. "I...mom, I'm gay."

His mom smiles and reaches out to hug him tightly. "Thank you for telling me, sweetheart. I love you."

"This is starting to feel like an episode of _Sally_ or something." Adam jokes, hugging her back. It's not like he ever thought his mom would hate him for being gay or anything, he just ...didn't want to test that belief.

They don't really talk much after that and Adam retreats to his room, making a joke about needing his sleep before another day in the coffee mines and he bounces into his room, still relieved and embarrassed and eager to talk it all out with Kris.

But Kris isn't there.

He isn't in his drawer, the _Narnia_ book he's been reading is still on top of the dresser and the room is empty. Adam's cheerful mood evaporates. He checks everywhere; under the bed, under the dresser and there's no sign of Kris. Adam sits on his bed and tries really hard not to freak out.

Just as he starts to lose his cool completely, there's a tapping at the window and he looks up to see the small globe of light wavering on the windowsill. He hurries over and throws open the sash so Kris can get in. Kris skims the edge of the window and swoops straight for the bed, landing with a bounce.

"Where have you _been_?" Adam demands, wincing at the shrill tone. Anger is flooding in; he's been worried sick and seriously, Kris couldn't have left a note?

Kris' glow dims enough that Adam can make him out and, shit, is that blood? Adam dives across the room to scoop Kris up. It still comes as a shock to realize how light Kris is; how _tiny_ he is. Adam cradles him against his chest, feeling Kris' panting and racing pulse. "Fuck, shit, Kris! What happened to you? Where does it hurt? Fuck, let me grab the first aid kit."

Kris wraps his hand around Adam's thumb and squeezes. "Man, chill, I'm fine."

"The fuck you are." Adam growls. There's blood clotting along the ruptured lines of his wings, what looks like it's going to be a wicked black eye and he has his free hand tucked against his side. Adam tucks Kris into his pajama pocket and sneaks downstairs to grab ice and band-aids. He patches Kris up on his desk, under the light of his lamp. This close, Adam can see the way the golden glitter of Kris' skin shines and the delicate strands of light that connect his wings to the smooth expanse of his back.

The wings are the worst, Adam dabs a cotton ball soaked with anti-septic along the worst of it. Kris whimpers and Adam wants to just cuddle him and hug him and keep him safe forever. He chops slivers off the ice and wraps it up in some tissue as a kind of icepack and makes Kris hold it against his eye. There's a load of tiny scrapes and cuts all over Kris's arms and legs. Adam spends like an hour disinfecting and cleaning and Kris winds up looking like the Band-Aid Mummy but at least Adam's fairly sure he's not going to die of infection.

"Okay," Adam says at last, thumb rubbing absently at Kris' good arm. "Now, what the fuck happened to you?"

"I had to look a little farther than I thought I would," Kris says like that's some kind of answer.

"Look for what? Look _where_?" Adam is starting to get pissy. "You couldn't wait for me to get home before you went gallivanting off around the state?"

"No," Kris says seriously. "I couldn't. I had to do it."

"Why? What the hell were you doing that you had to do it alone?"

"Have to contribute," Kris parrots, matching Adam's inflection from weeks ago with an eerie accuracy. He waves a hand towards the bed. "Have to pay my way."

"Oh sweetheart," Adam says even before he looks at the bed because Kris doesn't need to pay, will never need to pay to be welcome in Adam's life. "You didn't have to-holy _shit_ "

There's a roll of money where Kris landed on the bed. Adam must have missed it. He was more worried by the fact that Kris was bleeding and couldn't fly. It's more money than Adam's ever seen in one place before and he turns to stare at Kris. "Oh my _god_ , Kris, where did you get that? Did you hold up a bank or something? Or, like, mug someone? What the hell?"

"Hold up a bank?" Kris looks confused. "No, I just found a Leprechaun's hoard."

"A Leprechaun?" Adam turns back to Kris, expecting to see that mischievous smile that says Kris is fucking with him but Kris just blinks up at him, innocent and sleepy. He tosses the roll of notes into Kris' drawer and sits back down in front of Kris. "Okay, this I gotta hear."

"It wasn't a big deal," Kris says. Adam disagrees even when it turns out that Leprechauns aren't quite the greedy vicious little bastards that legends claim they are. "It's like squirrels, you know? Or magpies, maybe. They like collecting gold and once they have a whole pot, they hide it. Usually they bury it but sometimes they hide it under trees or bushes. Most Leprechauns have like, really bad memories so they forget where they hid their pot and if you know where to look, you can find one pretty easily."

"Easily?" Adam carries Kris over to the bed and puts him on the spare pillow before switching off the lights and getting into bed. "So you look like someone tried to put you through a blender because?"

"Um, one of the bushes that Leprechauns like to hide their pots in are briars." Kris shrugs, then winces and mumbles a little. Adam tucks a corner of blanket over him. "I kinda forgot that."

"I thought you said Leprechauns hoarded gold, though?" Adam says as he settles down.

"They do." Kris says around a huge yawn. It's kinda terrifying that he can open his mouth that wide, actually.

"So how'd you turn it into money? I mean, paper money?"

"Oh, magic." Kris says, breathing already evening out.

"Yeah, magic." Adam gripes fondly. "Shoulda seen that one coming."

In the morning, they have an argument about the money. Well, a heated debate about the money because Adam thinks Kris should hang onto it, just in case and Kris thinks Adam should have it and share it with his mom. They wind up compromising over the course of the week; Kris gives Adam fifty bucks which Adam claims as tips from work and no-one seems to notice.

Kris frets that he's not giving enough so Adam, on one of his _days off_ , actually sits down and works out how much feeding, cleaning and clothing Kris is costing the Lambert family.

"Ten point two cents a day." Adam says finally. Kris blinks at him and flies over carefully; his wings are a lot slower to heal than the rest of him and he's been stuck in Adam's room for days. "That's how much it costs to keep you, so," he scribbles down a few figures to check, "You're paid up for the next...five years."

"Oh." Kris goes back to the computer. (Watching him type is hilarious because he has to hop across the keyboard and stamp on keys.) "That's cool."

One year after Adam accidentally kidnapped Kris, Kris steals a beer from the fridge and disappears for the night. Adam worries and stays up half the night just in case Kris isn't coming back. When he wakes up, still in his desk chair and with a cramp in his neck, Kris is crashed out on his pillow, snoring gustily. Adam watches him for a bit, glad despite himself that Kris is still here.

High school is racing into the final stretch and Adam spends a month debating whether or not he wants to go to college. His parents think he should; Adam thinks the idea of a less-supervised, drunker high school sounds like the ninth circle of hell. Neil wants to be a journalist so Neil thinks college is awesome. Adam just wants to sing, and get laid and he doesn't really need college for that.

He asks Kris about it and Kris flutters over to sit cross-legged on his knee. Adam lays the whole thing out like Kris hasn't been there for just about every second and flops back onto the bed. Kris fans his wings out to keep his balance and thinks for few minutes. (Which is why Adam is talking to Kris; his parents and Neil don't think about what Adam's saying any more, just repeating back the same points until Adam is so frustrated he wants to scream.)

"Do you have to go to college right out of high school?" Kris asks eventually.

"Most people do," Adam says gloomily.

"No-one, like, takes a year out or something?" Kris continues, chin in hands. "I mean, would it be possible for you to, I don't know, go audition for the plays with the songs-"

"Musicals," Adam interjects.

"-yeah, them, for a year and then if that's not working, maybe go to college to study music?" Kris finishes. "So you can figure out where to go from there?"

Adam sits up to stare at him. "You're a _genius_!"

Kris blushes and gives him that shy, radiant smile that Adam has like this Pavlovian response to because he scoops Kris up for a hug.

It takes most of his last year in school to talk his parents around to Kris' point of view but eventually, they agree and Adam starts to look for apartments in LA and making lists of what he _needs_ and will have to bring and what can just stay here at his mom's until he has time to collect it. His mom buys him a car, one of the older Fords that looks kinda like a tank but it reliable and not too much of a gas-guzzler.

The last three months of high school are hectic, it kinda figures that just as Adam approaches a point at which he'll never have to see his peers again, everyone wants to be his friend and cry about how awful it is that high school is ending. Adam is as nice and non-committal as he can be and crams in as many extra shifts in Starbucks as he can. Kris hangs out with him pretty much all the time now even at work which is cool but it means that Adam has almost no chance to actually speak to him.

"You're coming with me," Adam asks the night before graduation, pretending a confidence that he doesn't feel, "Right?"

There's rustling from Kris' drawer and the glow brightens a little as Kris sticks his head out. Kris is glowing bright than he normally does, shoulders a little hunched and his drawl is really, really pronounced. Adam thinks for the millionth time that Kris is adorable when he's shy. "If you want me to."

"I am not dignifying that with a response," Adam says, rolling over to look at Kris.

"Okay," Kris smiles. "Sure. I'll come."

Adam graduates and it's a sob-fest and everyone's hugging and promising to stay in touch and there's like a billion photos with everyone that he's ever met in high school. There's this awkward moment where Keith hugs him and Adam gets reminded in a big rush about his crush on the guy and even though it's been like two years and Adam is so over him, there's something cool in being hugged tight and hearing Keith's voice in his ear.

Two weeks later, Adam packs his stuff into the back of his car and puts the lease on his new apartment into the glove box. He hugs his mom and his brother and there might be some tears in there. He starts the car and waves goodbye. Two miles down the road, he has to pull over for a second so he can wipe his eyes and sniffle a little.

Kris pops out of the boxes, the one marked with "Adam's ???" and settles on Adam's shoulder, hugging his neck. He doesn't say anything and Adam is grateful; there is no way he is capable of talking right now. Kris stays hugging Adam's neck for most of the first day. Adam's mom booked him a motel about halfway and made him promise to use it. They arrive fairly early, in time to grab a pizza from the Domino's across the street.

The room is a dingy beige with accents in grubby white. The bed is hard and smells of bleach and cigarette smoke. He brings in his suitcase, what's left of the six pack of Coke he started with that morning and Kris. Kris brings the box he started in. It's a shoebox which Adam doesn't recognize and Kris drops it on the bed and it bounces.

"What's that?" Adam says after they've eaten every scrap of the pizza and Kris is trying to balance a can of coke so he can drink out of it without drowning in it. "I don't remember packing that."

"You didn't." Kris says absently.

"But I packed all of your stuff," Adam thinks back and yeah, all of Kris' worldly possessions are bundled up in his bath towel in Adam's 'Bedroom' box.

"It's not my stuff."

"It's not?" Adam feels sticky and slow. His back and his ass ache with the stress of driving for so long.

"It's yours," Kris manages to pour a little Coke out and gulps it down.

"Seriously?" Adam rolls over to open the box. He's a little clumsy, still wrapped up in trying to figure out what the hell he packed in a shoe-box. "Oh my god..."

There's a pair of black leather boots, knee-high and with polished steel buckles. Adam is totally and immediately in love. They're brand new, still smooth and perfect and smelling of polish and god, so perfect. Adam takes them out and stares and stares. Kris is laughing, soft and fond and Adam is so not paying attention to him because Adam has kick-ass boots.

It's a couple of minutes, during which time Adam may or may not be trying out to figure out how to sleep with his new boots, before Adam realizes that there's _more stuff_ in the box.

"It's not much," Kris says honestly but Adam is not paying any attention to him because holy shit, Kris got him make-up!

Not a lot of make-up and it's the teeny-girl starter kits but it's bright and there's like six different eye shadows, an eyeliner pencil and some other stuff. There's nail polish in like blue and purple and black. Adam actually tears up a little when he finds the small vial of glitter at the very bottom of the box.

"You're going to LA to be yourself," Kris says from where he's sitting on his Coke can. "I figured I'd help."

"Fairy magic does make-up and kickass boots?" Adam laughs, cradling his boots and his make-up and feeling hope past the whole knee-knocking terror that has been shivering through the back of his mind.

"On special occasions." Kris smiles, flitting off the Coke can to land on the spare pillow.

Adam goes to sleep that night with a smile on his face. LA is going to be awesome.

Two years after that, LA sucks. Adam's been working every job he can just to pay the bills. His apartment's shit, his social life consists of whoever's in the show he's currently doing and he's hungry all the time. If Kris wasn't busting his ass to keep the apartment clean, Adam probably would be dead of like, typhus or something horrible.

He's tired all the time, stumbling through everything that isn't work and his voice rasps and squeaks for hours after each show. The worst part of all, is that Adam is afraid it's never going to get better than this. He doesn't have time to even dream of a demo tape, most auditions clash with his rehearsals and in LA, everyone is aware that every day, every second gets you closer to being 'old', 'past it' and 'never-made it'.

Adam learns a lot about being 'out' in LA. He learns that no matter what compromises he makes, there's a dickhead out there who'll scream 'Faggot' and 'Sodomite' just because Adam exists. He starts to push back, stops apologizing, stops listening to their crap and starts trying to make himself happy.

If he hadn't had Kris, Adam thinks he'd have gone back to San Diego and stayed there after the first Thanksgiving. Kris is like the house-fairy; he keeps the apartment from turning into a sewer, makes sure there's food (and god bless the internet and online grocery shopping). He sings for Adam in the shower when Adam's voice is too fucked out to even rasp along.

It's spring, Adam's latest show wraps at last and after spending a week crashed out his shitty couch catching up on the months of sleep he's missing by this point. He goes out after that; has to because Kris is itching to go somewhere that isn't concrete and plastic and exhaust fumes and clogged drains. Adam's still slow and stupid with the depression that follows the high of closing night. He's wrapped up in thinking about money; how much they need, how much he wishes they had and how much they actually have. Three different numbers and Adam just wants to call it quits, wants to say fuck it and go home and hug his mom and just stay on the couch for like a year.

It's godawful early, the sun a light haze on the horizon and there's this little park with actual honest-to-god palm trees and some withered wisps of grass. Adam sits on the bench which is all graffiti and might have actual bullet holes in it. He sits down, sighs and tips his head back. It's as cool as LA really gets; crisp edges to the breeze and the concrete is cool under his sneakers. The air isn't entirely fresh but it's clearer and there's space to breathe deep and Adam feels a little of the tension easing as his shoulders relax.

"You're not allowed to fall asleep," Kris' voice comes from just in front of him and Adam opens his eyes. There's a haze of golden glitter and Adam's eyes cross, trying to focus on him. "No way I'm hauling you home."

"I wish you would," Adam admits, more honest than he means to be.

Kris lands on his chest and looks up at him, face all scrunched up in a worried expression. "Hey, you know things are getting better, right?"

"Are they?"

"Yeah," Kris says seriously. "They are. You've got the _Wicked_ audition next week and you're going to get it and that's a big deal. It'll really help your career."

"You cannot act like I'm just going to get that part," Adam is smiling despite himself because Kris (who's grown like a quarter of an inch over the last four years) is standing on the lapel of Adam's denim jacket like a miniature cheerleader with his arms folded and his wings floating in the breeze.

"You deserve it." Kris says firmly. "You're going to get this and you're going to be awesome."

Adam's smile spreads across his face and he brings up an arm to cuddle Kris. "You're biased."

"I have working ears, I have heard you sing." Kris says into Adam's shirt. "I _know_ you can do this."

Kris is possibly the sweetest guy on the planet but he's a shitty liar and Adam can read him like a book. Kris isn't lying and Adam feels a warm surge of affection in his chest. He's not the dorky San Diego kid he used to be but knowing that Kris believes in him is enough to make him feel like he's king of the world. "Thanks, babe. You're the greatest."

"You know we've got some money, right?" Kris says after they've been sitting like that for a few minutes. "You could go out with Cassidy and Alisan. There's that new club that they've been talking about, right?"

"We can't affo-" Adam starts but Kris darts up and presses his hand against Adam's top lip.

"We can. Trust me."

"When you put it like that..." Adam says, garbled around Kris's hand.

He calls Cassidy on the way home and arranges to meet up about nine. Cassidy sounds genuinely thrilled to hear it and gives Adam, like, thirteen different sets of directions and a tip on the dress code; "Pretty and sparkly, sweetheart."

It's a good night, Adam smuggles Kris in under the collar of the new coat Cassidy made from the beat up leather duster Adam found in a thrift store. There's so many sequins and glitter that Kris' sparkling light is invisible. Once they get to the cloakroom, Kris slips away and Adam gets dragged on to the floor by one of Cassidy's friends and yeah, this Adam can totally do.

The club is thrumming with energy, the floor is a seething mass of beautiful sparkling people and the bar is crowded; there's a hot-ass twink of a bartender doing some kind of flair bar-tending without his shirt on. The music is a physical current, rippling through the crowd in shock waves and it's like the tidal pull. Adam does like three shots in the first minute, all courtesy of some guy in silver lipstick and Egyptian eyeshadow. They're like some kind of neon rainbow and there's more coming because this is LA and some people will do anything to get close to the pretty people.

The realization, which comes about the seventh shot, that _Adam_ is one of the pretty people is a better high than any weed or booze. It's like he's on fire, burning like a real star and there's always someone wanting to dance with him whenever his current partner or partners wear out.

Hours, maybe days later, Adam's singing to Madonna's 'Vogue' when someone fits themselves against his front and grinds back and mmm, yeah. Adam hasn't been a virgin since like a month after he made it to LA and he's had enough hook-ups and casual relationships that he knows what he wants. The crowd bunches up around them and Adam has to work to get his hands forward to curl around the guy's hips. It's a guy, he can tell that for sure, tight ass, narrow hips and just the right size to fit in against Adam. The lights are flashing and it's impossible to see details but the guy rolls them hip-to-hip and Adam's singing chokes off into a groan.

That's his last clear memory; the rest is psychedelic flashes, leather under his palm, mint and Jack in the sort of kiss that curls his toes and the heaving sweaty mass of humanity rolling around them while the music shudders through the air.

He wakes up on Cassidy's couch in the afternoon and there's a cup of coffee on the table beside him. Adam's brain feels like it's oozing down his throat and he's sticky and gross with sweat. There's a glass of water and he drinks it in one big gulp and groans queasily.

Cassidy shuffles in from the bedroom. "Oh thank god. Coffee."

"Mmm," Adam is cradling his own mug and slowly crawling towards awareness.

Cassidy comes to sit on the bit of couch that Adam isn't actually using and they just zone out in companionable silence until the coffee kicks in. Adam aches and his feet are one throbbing mass of aches and pains. He's going to be wearing sneakers for the next few days and ice-packs are in his not-so-far-future. Adam hopes he's got enough for a cab because there is no way he's walking home.

Cassidy finishes his coffee and blinks a little as he finishes waking up. He looks across at Adam and smiles. "So, you and Brad?"

"Me and who?"

"Brad? About so tall, brunet, hot-ass?" Cassidy is smirking and Adam thumps him weakly in the shoulder on pure reflex. "The dude you were grinding off for half the night?"

Adam's lips curve at the memory of sweat and music and motion. Oh yeah, he's going to remember that guy. "Brad? I didn't get a name."

"I'm guessing you got a number, you player you." Cassidy laughs when Adam fumbles for his phone.

"I don't have a Brad," Adam says after scrolling through his contacts list twice.

Cassidy stands up and collects the mugs. "Any new entries?"

"I don't think-" Adam breaks off to stare at his phone. "Okay, I have a 'Sparkles Blowjobs and Twink Delivery'? The fuck?"

"That sounds like Cheeks." Cassidy's voice floats out from the kitchen over the sound of running water. "Though he must really like you if he's offering blowjobs already."

"Cheeks?"

"Don't ask." Cassidy comes out of the kitchen, wiping his hands on a scrap of faux fur. "Just call him sometime soon, okay?"

Adam promises and Cassidy drops him home and Adam only remembers Kris when he goes into the bathroom and sees a faint golden glow through the frosted glass. He opens the window to find Kris crouched on the windowsill with his wings wrapped tightly around himself. He looks exhausted and half-frozen and Adam has to call his name three times before he responds. Adam's half a second from just opening the window the whole way and trying to grab Kris as he gets knocked off. There are things about their apartment that Adam hates.

Kris takes a minute to focus and even then, he doesn't fly through the window. He gets up and wobbles his way across the window sill and crawls under the window. Adam hovers, hands outstretched until Kris' wings open at last and he glides to the floor. "Kris?"

Kris ignores him, setting off across the bathroom floor with Adam trailing him. He's afraid to step any closer because he's still hungover enough that he doesn't trust his balance and if Kris can't - _isn't_ \- flying, he won't be able to dodge if Adam steps on him. Kris stops in front of the dresser, swaying a little as he frowns up at it. Adam feels like he should just pick Kris up but when he moves forward, Kris' head snaps around and he glares at Adam.

Adam steps back, hands up and Kris turns back to the dresser. His wings beat a couple of slow, hesitant sweeps then more strongly; enough that Kris bounces up high enough to catch the edge of the drawer and pull himself in. The bath towel rustles as he burrows in and Adam is left standing in the doorway, guilty and worried.

Kris doesn't talk to him for the rest of the day and only comes out to drink some water before disappearing back into his drawer. Adam spends the day puttering around and practicing a bit for the audition. He feels like an unwelcome guest which is nuts because technically this is his apartment, it says so on the lease.

By about eleven that night, he's worked his way to angry and he storms into the bedroom and bangs on Kris' drawer until Kris pops his head out of the bath towel to glare up at him. "Go away, Adam."

"No. You do not get to be a pissy little bitch and not tell me why!" Adam snaps.

"Pissy. Little. Bitch." Kris' voice flattens out completely and he pulls himself out of the bath towel, wings curling up and back. He's flushed and looks furious. Adam remembers suddenly that Kris is capable of carrying like three bags of groceries at once. "Let me just get this clear here. Wouldn't want any _misunderstandings_ over this. You ditch me at the club. You don't even tell me you're leaving. You don't tell me where you're going. You don't leave me a key. You don't even leave a fucking _window open_. I have to sit on the bathroom window and hope that you come back before I freeze or the rats get me. I haven't eaten for a whole day. I'm so fucking cold that I'm only just starting to get feeling back in my wings. I haven't had any sleep since the night before yesterday. All I want is a little time alone and _I'm_ the pissy bitch here?"

Adam flounders a little, it's the first time he's heard Kris swear and Kris is actually shaking with rage, or maybe exhaustion.

Kris shakes his head, wings drooping to hang heavily from his shoulders. "Just...go away, Adam. I'm too mad to be thinking straight right now. Let me sleep and tomorrow, I'll be glad you had a good time. Just...not now."

He pulls up the bath towel and his glow dims to the point when Adam can't see it even with the lights off. Adam can't let it go at that of course, he goes into the kitchen and gets a shot glass full of the pineapple juice that Kris insists they get and a grilled cheese sandwich which he slices up into like fifty little pieces. He goes back into the bedroom and taps quietly on the drawer.

"Kris?" No response and Adam juggles the hot plate and shot glass before it dawns on him that he can put them on the damn dresser, so he does that. "Look, I've been an asshole and I'm really sorry. We don't have to talk about it tonight but you need to eat something."

There's another long silence and Adam keeps his hands by his sides only with a great effort of will. "Please, babe. You have to eat."

Because Kris doesn't even eat as much as Adam but he needs to eat, told Adam why back on their first New Year's when they were both drunk from cheap-vodka and chocolate syrup milkshakes. That magic is like fire and it keeps burning, even when there isn't fuel and Kris eats so much because he doesn't have any other way to feed it and if he doesn't... Adam doesn't think Kris remembers the second half of the conversation, the stories of fairies who'd starved and burned altogether, dwindling into ash on the wind. One day shouldn't be fatal, can't be fatal; Adam won't let it be.

Kris crawls out of his bath towel and looks up at him for a few long seconds. Adam doesn't even breathe. Then Kris scrambles up to sit beside the plate and starts munching determinedly. Adam relaxes with a soft sigh. He gets up and gets a glass of water and a refill of juice for Kris before he brushes his teeth and cleans the last of last night's makeup off. When he comes back out, Kris spreads his wings and flies over to settle on his chest, snuggling into Adam's ratty old Bowie T-shirt with a sigh. Adam cuddles him close and sends up a silent prayer of thanks to anybody looking out for wannabe rock-stars and their stupid selfless best friends.

"You should call that guy," Kris says sleepily, sprawling out across Adam's chest like a kitten.

"Guy?"

"The guy-" Kris cracks his jaw as he yawns. "-that you were dancing with."

"Oh?" Adam smiles down at him.

"He made you happy," Kris mumbles as he snuggles in and Adam dips his head just enough to kiss Kris' hair before wiggling a little and closing his eyes.

He calls Brad the next afternoon and they talk for half an hour before Adam asks if Brad wants to get coffee. Brad does, after making like six dirty jokes in response and they wind up in Starbucks a few days later. They talk (flirt) for hours and Adam is still smiling when he goes for his audition. Kris tags along, lurking overhead in among the stage lights while Adam sings his heart out. He aces the whole thing and the director actually comes backstage to chat with him for a while and leaves with a smile on his face so Adam's fucking _stoked_.

He buys Kris a Grande Signature Hot Chocolate with extra whipped cream and laughs his ass off when Kris winds up looking like he's wearing a face mask.

When they get home, Adam checks the tin that they keep the cash in. There's still about four hundred dollars in there which is more than enough to pay for groceries and a kickass first 'official' date with Brad. He tells Kris that and Kris thinks for a second before agreeing.

"I mailed the cash for the credit card bill so we should be fine for the next month at least." Kris grins at him. "Leave a hundred for emergencies and we should be golden until your last pay-check clears."

Adam stares at him, starry-eyed and Kris cracks up. "Yes, that means you can buy the boots."

Adam buys his new boots, takes Brad out for dinner and a wild night of clubbing and they wind up spending the night at Brad's apartment which is much bigger and airier than Adam's. They fuck the whole night and Adam can barely _walk_ the next day. He has to carry Brad to the shower and leave him there for like an hour before Brad can walk (waddle) and Adam would feel guilty but Brad just smirks and drags him into a smoking hot kiss filled with dirty promises.

Adam has to walk like three blocks to find a taxi and he's wearing last night's clothes and smeared make-up and his hair is just a _wreck_ and Adam can't stop smiling. He calls Brad that evening and they set up another date for Friday and Adam tells Kris all about it over a seriously late brunch. Kris laughs and throws a tea towel at his head and makes grossed out faces.

Being with Brad is crazy, awesome and Adam pretty much floats through the next few months. He's had crushes before but he's actually in love this time and everything is wonderful. Adam talks for hours about his boyfriend to his mom and Neil and his dad and Kris most of all because Kris can't hang up on him.

Since Adam is _not_ actually a sixteen-year-old kid, he does have some sensible moments; he never goes out for anything stronger than coffee with Brad on the night before a show, he invites all his other friends out at least once a week and he keeps two nights a week free for Kris.

Brad introduces Adam to the LA that he'd dreamed of back when he was fat, pimply and fantasizing in San Diego. The clubs where you don't listen to the music, you feel it. The seedy bars, the shops with the blacked out windows and the graffiti that covers the ugly lumpy concrete slums and makes them fierce and vibrant and beautiful. Adam learns tarot, gets his wrist tattooed one night because he's high and it's a week before he has to go to work and sits crowded up between Brad and a girl with blonde dreadlocks down past her ass in a tiny fire hazard of a room while incense burns and a drum beats out steady pulse-rhythm.

Adam grows up, learns more about himself than he imagined existed and he is genuinely happy.

So he doesn't notice when it starts to go sour, not right away and not before it's too late.

They fight one day, the sort of fight that cold-cocks Adam and he only realizes months later how long it had been brewing. Brad is flirting with some blond twink who's even wearing his college football jersey and just for a second, Adam's fat and hopeless, stranded back in high school, watching the cool kids and wishing. He's drunk and just shy of being actually high and he says some stupid things. He doesn't mean them but he won't work that out until later. He still says them.

Brad, for the first time that Adam's known him, loses his shit. Right there on the dance floor and it takes five bouncers to drag them off the dance floor and throw them out. Brad storms off before Adam can say anything. Adam curses, uses every single dirty, rude word he knows and kicks over a dustbin.

He goes home because he's just clearheaded enough to know that if he stays out, he's going to get arrested. He slams the front door behind him, hard enough that he knocks the framed print off the wall, crappy plastic hook and all.

"Adam?" Kris comes skimming out of the bedroom, rumpled and worried and Adam only realizes he's crying when Kris' hand on his cheek comes away black.

Kris deserves a medal, he must have stayed up all night already but he takes over; steering Adam over to the couch, wings flapping hard and there was at least a few seconds there where Adam could swear that Kris actually bodily lifts him. With Adam safely deposited on the couch, Kris zips back into the kitchen and comes back with ice-cream and the vodka.

He bawls like a baby and Kris curls up against his heart and sings to him when his throat closes around the sobbing. Adam just pours it all out and Kris listens and is _there_. Adam passes out sometime between the millionth and the million and first iteration of 'oh god what have I done' and 'I'm going to die bitter and alone and no-one will ever love me'.

He wakes up to the sound of knocking on the door and Kris gets up which Adam can only tell by the loss of warmth just over his heart and the faint whir of his wings. Adam is still mostly asleep, just aware enough to register the sound of the door opening and Brad's "We're not fucking fin-"

Then Kris' voice, soft and savage in the way it just isn't normally. "Shut the fuck up."

"Holy fucking shit!" Brad sounds shrill and shaky, like he's coming down from a bad trip.

"Leave him alone. You want to fight, you do it tomorrow." There's light, bright enough that Adam sees red through his eyelids.

There's the sound of stumbling footsteps and the light goes out. No matter how hard Adam struggles, he's too drunk and too deeply asleep to wake the rest of the way up. He hangs on until the door clicks shut and Kris settles back over his heart. Adam turns his head a little, mouth opening to ask but he's asleep before he finishes breathing in.

He wakes with a killer hangover and his phone ringing. It's Danielle, wondering why the fuck he isn't in rehearsal. Adam spins some off the cuff bullshit about a 24-hour bug and swears on his favorite leather boots to be in tomorrow. Kris has coffee and bagels waiting for him and mothers him outrageously for the rest of the day.

Adam gets a call from Cassidy, offering commiserations about the meltdown between him and Brad. That's how Adam knows it's over.

The next few weeks are hell, pure and simple. He and Brad don't talk to each other. Their friends find out through the grapevine and it's awkward because they pretty share their entire social circle and no-one wants to get caught in the middle. It's not like Adam can blame them; he spends the first week at work or with Kris and Kris is the one who kicks him out on Friday night and steals his phone to send Cassidy a text inviting him out for a drink.

Adam feels hollow most the time, like there's nothing there but a sucking black hole. Brad's tangled up in the city, in Adam's friends, in his favorite places and everything's uncomfortable and miserable without him. Kris starts singing pretty much all the time, even dancing when Adam's depression threatens to topple over into suicidal. There's something inherently hilarious about watching a little golden fairy shaking his ass across the kitchen counter and Adam laughs as much as he cries. Adam's life picks up a soundtrack, courtesy of Kris Allen and gradually, he wins back his love of music.

Two months after he broke up with Brad, Adam gets a Christmas bonus in his check from _Wicked_. He's already bought most of the presents he wanted to get, Kris watches the budget carefully and has already added his own small wrapped bundles to his shoe-box. It's the one that came with Adam's first LA boots, since reclaimed by Kris. Kris doesn't talk much about his family or friends; all Adam really has are names and the occasional story. Times like these, he regrets that but he has no idea how to make Kris feel comfortable with talking to him about it after all these years.

So Adam doesn't ask where Kris is getting these presents or who they're for; he especially doesn't ask if Kris still wants to go home. It was different for Adam who moved out when he was ready to be his own person, Kris hasn't seen or spoken to another fairy since he met Adam. Adam's in a bleak enough mood that he blames himself for that and half-convinces himself that Kris is pining for home.

Then Kris makes him an eggnog latte with chocolate sprinkles and some homemade chocolate chip muffins, enough for the whole cast, just in time for him to take them to his last pre-Christmas show. He sneaks along, tucking himself in between the layers of Adam's cashmere scarf and providing a running commentary the whole way to the theater.

"That woman looks like she's going to pop, I hope she doesn't have bad blood pressure. Did you see that Santa Claus? I've never seen one with a leather outfit before. Those lights aren't in sync, it's messing with my head."

Adam chuckles and Kris' wing flicks against the bare skin at the back of his neck.

"I didn't think LA got this cold. Isn't the Equator supposed to be keeping us all sunny and shit?"

"Could be worse," Adam points out. "At least in LA, it's not going to snow. San Diego's actually got snow forecast."

"Snow is awesome," Kris insists and they argue about that for a couple of blocks until Adam turns into the alley leading to the stage door and Kris goes quiet. Adam drops the muffins into the green room, neatly diverting every one of his cast-mates out of the changing rooms for a few minutes while he strips off his normal clothes and makes sure Kris doesn't have frost-bite. Kris flits around, it's not his first time backstage but he's endlessly fascinated by it and Adam finishes changing.

"Why did you want to come anyway?"

"I wanted to hear you sing," Kris says matter-of-factly.

"You can hear me singing anytime. It's not like you aren't there when I practice," Adam points out.

"Not like you sing on stage," Kris says seriously. "And there's instruments and other singers and lights and-"

Adam looks up at him fondly, Kris is looping around the ceiling and not looking at him which means he's being shy. How Kris can still be shy about anything to do with Adam is a mystery that Adam simply cannot fathom. It's kind of awesome though because Kris is adorable but Kris when he's feeling shy is extra-super-adorable, like puppies and kittens squared adorable.

Kris stays near the flood lights, hiding his glow from everyone but Adam. He's there for the entire show and Adam suspects he's the instigator of at least one curtain call. He stays out of the way until Adam's said goodbye to everyone and scrubbed off as much of his make-up as he can before nestling into Adam's scarf and falling asleep. Adam walks home with Kris snoring softly against his neck and for the first time since the Fight, he feels...happy.

Adam puts Kris to bed when they get home and goes online with his laptop. Finding what he wants takes most of the night and costs most of Adam's bonus but it's perfect. Adam types in his parents' address and pays the extra for express shipping before crawling into bed.

They drive up to San Diego two days later and have duet sing-a-longs to the radio and Adam's ancient Micheal Jackson and David Bowie tapes. Adam is hoarse from singing by the time they pull in and he hugs his mom and gives her a real smile when she asks how he's been.

"It's been rough," he says honestly. "But I'm getting through it. I don't think I'm okay, not yet, but I will be, I know that."

"That's all anyone can ask, sweetheart," his mom says with a sad smile.

Neil is full of news and opinions about things like politics (Adam knows a little), foreign news (Adam knows less) and the stock market (Adam knows jack shit). They argue over DVDs and the cultural implications of watching a Christmas movie over Hanukkah and decide to watch one of the really shitty ones with popcorn so they can set up a drinking game.

Adam hands out presents over the eight days but he saves Kris' for Christmas. Kris' present this year is some seriously kickass silver jewelry, heavy bracelets with a different ring each night. It looks _fierce_ and Adam spends an hour or so in his bathroom just posing with them.

He'd gotten Kris an iPod with a speaker system that he can plug it into and Kris does this dorky delighted wiggle that isn't exactly dancing but comes so close that's it's impossible to tell the difference. It's one of the tiny ones which makes it about half Kris' size and Adam laughs when Kris goes to sleep that night cuddling it like a teddy bear.

Kris' other present arrives on the day after Christmas and Adam has to smuggle it up past his parents which gives him all sorts of flashbacks to his teenage self.

"What's in there?" Kris asks, fluttering over from where he'd been sprawled across a cushion.

"Your present." Adam says, setting it down to cut through the packing tape. Kris zooms over to hover by his shoulder.

"But you already bought me my present."

"This is the other half of it," Adam has to saw off a corner to actually get any of the tape unpicked. He slits the box open as carefully as possible. There's a book and another package, this time wrapped in insulation and taped solidly together. Adam holds out the book 'Teach Yourself Guitar In Fifteen Minutes A Day!'

Kris grabs it by the spine and flies it over to set down on the dresser, frowning a little. Adam can see him composing a polite thank you and rips off the last of the bubble wrap to reveal the tiny guitar. Kris freezes for a second then he's hovering over the guitar, wings brushing Adam's hand. "Is that-?"

"Fully functional," Adam says, smiling. "It's amazing what you can find on the internet these days."

Kris picks up the guitar reverently, wings trembling with excitement and cradles it. Adam can actually see sparkling stars in his eyes and Kris twangs some strings, frowning and twiddling the keys until it sounds like a proper guitar. He's utterly enraptured and Adam, sitting back with his weight on his hands, watches as Kris feels his way through a slow, stuttery version of 'Jingle Bells'.

The last note fades and Kris looks up. He has actual tears in his eyes but he's smiling, the wide amazed grin that scrunches up the corner of his eyes and Adam's answering smile isn't a choice, it's a compulsion. "Thank you. Thank you for-...just _thank you_."

Kris actually makes the guitar case himself, out of cardboard and an old chamois leather that Adam's had for years. It's safely stowed in the glove box when they leave for LA with a cooler full of food and it's the first thing Kris brings into the apartment, putting it carefully into his drawer before coming back out to help Adam with the rest of the bags.

January and February are a blur; there's a rash of colds and flus and the cast dwindles alarmingly. Adam spends a couple of weekends tucked up in a blanket with Kris feeding him soup and orange juice but he's one of the healthy ones which means he's working harder than he ever has in his life until March, when everyone's back and there's time to breathe.

Brad calls him on Saint Patrick's Day. Adam is hanging with Cassidy and the conversation is awkward but it isn't the bitter hostility that Adam was expecting. When Adam calls him back two days later to ask if Brad's visited the new club near the leather club (which is really a rhetorical question, of course he has) and what he thought of it, Brad's vicious dissection of the club, the music and clientèle has Adam in stitches for like an hour.

It's not that simple but they both want the friendship. Adam wouldn't mind the searing hot sex but he wasn't just in love with Brad, he loves him and cutting him out of his life would have sucked. Their friends are totally behind them and they manage the transition faster and smoother than Adam would have believed possible just a few months ago.

He's meeting Brad for coffee and a chat about Burning Man which Adam is going to try to get to this year. They're chatting until the cafe closes and it seems completely natural to just keep talking. Adam doesn't realize that Brad is steering him until they're actually on the stairs to his apartment.

"Ask me in, bitch." Brad says before Adam can come up with an excuse as to why he doesn't want to bring Brad in.

"I would," Adam parries. "But the red carpet's at the cleaners."

"I can slum it."

Then Brad's in the apartment and Adam takes a covert look around; there's a container of Chinese food, the door to the bedroom's ajar but there's no obvious sign of Kris. Brad keeps Adam talking for hours over coffee and Adam relaxes. They break out the makeup and the tequila (and why did Adam buy tequila?) and Adam is sprawled across the couch, giggling when Brad looks up from the eyeliner in his hand. "So, are you going to introduce me to your room-mate or what?"

"Kris?" Adam says before he can catch the word. Brad's smile goes sharkish and he sits back.

"Kris? The Kris? Your friend Kris?" Before Adam can figure out what the hell he should be saying, Brad looks around. "Kris? Come on, Kris. Are you here?"

The bedroom lights up and Brad smiles wide. Adam is frozen in place, heart pounding like a jackhammer, violent gulps of movement that shake through him. Kris comes into the main room, glowing just a little brighter than normal; enough that Adam can't read his expression. Every instinct Adam has is screaming at him to throw Brad out and lie, pretend that this never happened.

Kris stays back, hovering about three feet from the couch. Brad is staring at him, his typical smirk not quite in place. Adam covers his face with his hands and tries to wish himself sober.

"You are Kris, right?" Brad asks eventually.

"Right," Kris says cautiously.

"Oh, thank god, I was starting to think you couldn't speak." Adam looks up in time to see Brad holding out his hand. "Brad Bell, at your service."

"Um, Kris Allen. Nice to meet you." Kris comes close enough to shake Brad's hand and Brad draws him closer to the couch.

"So where did Adam find you?" Brad asks, sitting back to cross his ankles and study Kris with unconcealed fascination.

"Um, there was a camping trip and some weed," Kris perches on the back of the couch and looks between them. He's chewing his lower lip and Adam sits back up reluctantly.

"Adam, you corrupter of innocent youth!" Brad give him an arch look. "You do realize that makes you the poster boy for the Lunatic Right's image of gays, yes?"

"Hey," Adam objects, "I was _sixteen_ and I had stupid greasy red hair and I was fat and ugly-"

"You were _not_ ugly!" Kris interrupts and Brad looks down at him with an expression that Adam's never seen on him before.

"Oh, baby," Brad coos, reaching out to pet Kris' wings and looking enchanted when they do that weird flip/fluffing thing that they always do when someone touches them. "You are just a gem, aren't you?"

It's at this point that Adam decides he needs more booze. Lots and lots more booze. This isn't going to be a night he wants to remember. There's only another two bottles of booze and a bottle of beer that Adam got for Kris to have during the football season. Even the emergency liquor bottle is empty. Adam is still distressingly sober when he comes back to find Brad painting Kris' nails. Kris, who is already drunk on three shots of vodka, is perched on the point of Brad's knee, giggling a little as Brad pets his wings and talks colors

"Definitely a summer, I think," Brad says, considering. "No, don't move, babe. That's gotta dry first."

Kris hums disapproval, his wings shivering in annoyance. Adam rubs along his back with the tip of his finger and Kris leans back against him. Brad quirks an eyebrow at Adam who absolutely does not glare at him. Kris is a tactile guy, Adam's known that for _years_. It would be stupid to get jealous of the way he's sprawled across Brad.

Adam grits his teeth and doesn't say anything. Brad is chatting with Kris, who is still nervous but getting animated as Brad prods genuine answers out of him. It's disconcerting to be reminded that Brad's only a queen bitch because he wants to be. Brad is really working the charm. He's putting serious effort into getting Kris to respond and Kris gets won over despite the fact that Kris doesn't really like Brad. (It's not personal, Kris just defaults to being on Adam's side in any given argument.)

An hour later and Kris is asleep in a tangled nest made of one of Adam's hoodies and Brad's scarf. He's snoring a little, which Kris doesn't normally do and Adam has a protective arm around the Kris/clothes bundle. Brad has gone quiet, looking down at Kris with dark, unreadable eyes as he sips from a bottle of water.

"How long has he been living with you?" Brad asks, something confusing and grim in his voice and is he _jealous_?

Adam is too drowsy-drunk to resist and he has to think for a few minutes because his life before he had Kris doesn't feel like it was _his_ life. "Six, six and a half years. I was sixteen."

"Does anyone else know about him?" Brad's pressing his lips together, looking more serious.

"No," Adam says, tracing the edge of Kris' wing with an unsteady fingertip and wondering if he's drunker than he thinks he is. "He stays with me most of the time and it's not safe."

"Not safe? Why not safe?" Brad pokes.

Adam scowls at him. "People will _see_ him! 'Course it's not safe."

"What, you're afraid they're going to lock him in a zoo or something?" Brad says incredulously. "Oh sweetheart, that's so...eighties film writer of you."

Adam glowers because he can't make his mind work long enough to organize his jumbled thoughts into words that Brad will understand.

"He goes to your shows? Your rehearsals?" Brad presses and Adam's got the feeling that Brad is steering this conversation somewhere but he's too tired, too drunk and too pissed at Brad for coming barging in and painting Kris' nails to actually give a fuck.

"Sometimes he comes to the show," Adam says absently. "Not rehearsals. He can't hide when the stage lights aren't all on."

"Just so's I'm clear here," Brad puts down his bottle of water and turns to face Adam head-on. "You find a fairy, take him home-"

"I told you, there was weed involved," Adam waves his free hand. "I didn't mean to kidnap him!"

"-you _kidnapped_ him?" Brad is scowling now, voice sharp enough that Kris stirs, brows drawing down and mumbles a little. They both freeze. Brad waits until he's settled again before continuing in a quiet, vicious tone. "You kidnap a fairy, take him home, keep him in your bedroom, only let him out when it doesn't inconvenience you and you can't see a problem with this?"

"It's not like that," Adam protests, because it isn't; Brad makes it sound cruel and Adam's not a saint but Kris is his best friend and Adam's always tried his best to make him happy.

"I think it's _exactly_ like that," Brad looks down at Kris and shakes his head. "You can't keep doing this to him, Adam."

"I'm not doing anything to him," Adam says sulkily, hugging Kris' bundle a little tighter.

"That's the point," Brad snaps then he sighs and rubs his face, smearing his makeup a little and wow, this really is serious because Adam has never seen Brad mess up his make-up, like, ever. "Adam...look, doesn't he deserve to have something other than you in his life? People to hang out with when you're not there? Places to go when you sexile him?"

"I don't bring guys back here," Adam objects because that's the first thing Brad's said that doesn't have the ring of truth.

"No, you just stay out all night," Brad says, daring Adam to contradict him. Adam can't; Brad knows he's done that, been the cause most of the times Adam wound up staying out all night. Brad looks at him, chin on hand. "Baby, I'm not saying you have to give him up. No-one's going to take him away."

"Then what are you saying," Adam demands, Kris and hoody now tucked up against him protectively.

"I'm saying that he should have options," Brad says simply. "You know Cassidy would love him to pieces and Alisan would adore him. I'm not suggesting you take an ad in the LA Times or anything crazy, just that you stop locking him in your apartment and let him out to stretch his wings."

"I guess," Adam admits grudgingly, slouching in his seat and closing his eyes. He's not talking about this with Brad any more. He's planning just to keep his eyes closed until Brad gets the point but he's shattered and he winds up falling asleep right there on the couch.

Kris knows Adam's weakness far too well; Adam comes awake the next morning to the delicious smell of bacon sizzling and Brad groans and rolls off the couch and Adam laughs reflexively because it's kind of amazing to see Brad all rumpled and with his make-up smeared and his hair looking like the Lion's mane from _Oz_.

Brad flips him off, running fingers through his hair and rubbing his eyes. "Just for that, bitch, I'mma shower first."

Adam can't really argue with that. He points Brad towards the towels and slouches into the kitchen/dining room where Kris is zooming around the kitchen. "It is _totally_ not fair that you don't get hangovers."

"I get to live with you being hungover," Kris points out, carrying a glass of water and some aspirin. "I think I suffer enough."

"Mmmm," Adam gulps down the water and the pills and leans back against the counter.

"So, um, Brad seems nice?" Kris says tentatively, flitting around the frying pan and the toaster.

Adam laughs again, because Brad, Brad is wonderful and lovely and has unexpected depths of loyalty and kindness but "Brad is a bitch. I think he liked you, though."

"You think so?" Kris is carefully not looking at him, wielding the antique fork from the set Adam bought at a second-hand store. It's like an inch longer than Kris is tall and it's hilarious to watch him using it (even if Adam has learned better than to actually laugh at him. Kris isn't just fast, he's _vicious_ when he's pissed).

"He was painting your nails," Adam points out and Kris shoots him a wary glance over his shoulder. "Of course he likes you."

"Painting my nails means he likes me?" Kris says, not entirely convinced and looking at Adam like he's waiting for the punchline.

"Manicures mean love," Brad says from the doorway, towel slung around his shoulders and a pair of Adam's boxers hanging off his hips. "Believe me, baby boy, as soon as I can get my kit over here, I'm going to love you proper."

"Ummm," Kris says, looking back and forth between them. He's got his brows scrunched up and his wings are glittering brighter than normal and they're beating a little harder than they should be. Adam's awake enough to realize what that means and he feels his stomach drop.

Kris looks almost afraid and it can't be of Brad; Kris could run rings around Brad any day of the week and he was okay with Brad touching him last night. The only reason Kris could be looking so nervous is Adam or more precisely Adam's reaction. Adam bites his lip, because he's afraid of what this might mean. He remembers Brad's frown, the lucid snippets of the conversation and the sick feeling that seemed to start in his toes. Kris gives up too much for Adam already.

"I have a manicure set," Adam says, before Kris can freak out too much. "Why wait?"

"That isn't a manicure set," Brad sniffs haughtily. "That is a My Little Pony grooming kit with delusions of adequacy."

"Fuck you," Adam snorts and they're off, bickering and bitching. Kris finds out more than he ever needs to know about manicure sets until Adam's need for a shower starts to outweigh his need to prove Brad wrong.

When they go out that night, Adam wears one of the modified hoodies that Cassidy made for him and Kris rides along in the hood, talking to Brad (who isn't talking to Adam after Adam stole his lip gloss). They go to Cassidy's first, to get the introductions out of the way. Cassidy is really cool about it, he only asks what they've been smoking once and then when Kris hops shyly out of Adam's hood to land on the coffee table, Cass takes one look and it's love at first sight. Seriously, Adam swears he can see teeny tiny hearts in Cassidy's eyes.

" _Oh my god_!" Cassidy nearly knocks the coffee table over. "Oh, wow, hi! I'm Cassidy."

"Kris Allen," Kris says, smiling hopefully and holding out a hand as his wings fluff up, all golden and bright and Cassidy actually squeals, clapping his hands in delight before sweeping Kris up in an enthusiastic cuddle.

"Hey, no squishing him!" Adam says, alarmed. Cassidy snorts at him and loosens his grip enough that Adam isn't afraid for Kris' wings He still looks a little dazed when Cassidy lets him go and he flutters back to Adam's shoulder.

Cassidy demands the whole story and Brad only remembers the vaguest outline of what Adam said last night, so Adam winds up on Cassidy's couch with Kris in his lap, sharing an absolutely sinful chocolate butter cupcake while Cassidy and Brad sit on the coffee table firing off questions.

Alisan arrives like half an hour later and they have to start again, this time with Kris cuddled up to Alisan's chest and going ever deeper shades of scarlet. He tries to wiggle away once or twice but can't find anywhere safe to put his hands. It's equal parts adorable and hilarious. Adam finally takes Kris back before he can actually pass out from all the blood in his body relocating to his face, and they wind up not going out, just ordering in pizza. It's still an awesome night.

Things change after that, but not as much as Adam had dreaded. He gets Kris a cell phone - the smallest model he can find which still means like two thirds Kris' size. The saleslady throws in a free Bluetooth earpiece which is awesome, until Adam actually sees Kris trying to use it and drops a bottle of milk because he's laughing so hard. He also gets Kris a key to the apartment, then Brad gives him one after Adam confesses to accidentally locking Kris out that one time. Brad, the traitor, tells everyone else and by the end of the week, Kris has a whole bunch of keys. Adam is totally not jealous that Kris' bunch of keys is bigger than his.

Everyone wants Kris to hang out with them, which only really happens if Adam's there (Kris' preferred option) or Adam's at work and Kris is going to be home alone. Adam gains a new sympathy for his mom, since Kris keeps forgetting his keys or his phone or the piece of paper with directions to wherever he's going. The last is only a problem because Kris is too polite to call and ask for new directions. (Adam is going to have gray hair in no time.) He always remembers his guitar though.

Alisan takes him make-up shopping because Kris has an awesome eye for colors and he and Cassidy wage an unending war over what Kris is going to wear. Kris, to Adam's eternal bafflement, _likes_ plaid and plain denim jeans and T-shirts. Cassidy thinks Kris should be wearing more glitter, more jewelery and that it would be criminal to hide the golden glitter under Kris' skin and sparkling off his wings. Cassidy develops a new pet philosophy; there should be more glitter on the clothes than on the person wearing the clothes.

Kris, who is far too nice for his own good, lets Cassidy dress him and comes out looking like a cross between a pie and a disco ball. He only ever wears the clothes for a few minutes, then changes as soon as he can. Adam's secretly relieved that even exposure to Adam's friends doesn't really change Kris. He's still home every night when Adam gets back, they still sing together in the shower and talk for like an hour in their room before they fall asleep. He quickly becomes the most popular person in their group and there's a part of Adam, which might be closer to the petulant 16 year old than Adam likes to admit, that is selfishly glad he stays Kris' _best_ friend.

Kris tells him everything, including how Cassidy is teaching him to drive and Alisan is using Kris to prowl for new dates. They both love listening to him play and sing and Adam spends one precious Saturday off on an armchair in Cassidy's while Kris plays and Cassidy creates. He's so transparently happy that Adam firmly clamps down on the jealousy. It's stupid and childish and Adam even has a mantra that he says every night. "I am not 16. I am not pathetic. I am not locking Kris in the apartment."

 _Wicked_ wraps up a few weeks later and Adam's done really well out of it. He's got enough money to last months even if he doesn't get a job right away. With Kris' full support, Adam decides to take some time and just hang out while he thinks about where he's going to go next with his life. Brad, the second he hears Adam's free for a few weeks, immediately says "Burning Man. We should totally haul your ass to Burning Man."

Adam agrees and somehow, gets talked into asking Kris to come along too. Kris finally agrees to come like two days before, halfway through cleaning the apartment. "Someone needs to make sure you don't kill yourself when you're high."

It's a joke, or mostly a joke then. Burning Man turns out to be ...crazy. It's hot, forge heat from long before they actually arrive, all of them rattling along together in Adam's beloved beat-up clunker. Brad and Adam sing, Kris strumming along and the radio hissing and jumbling together a dozen different stations. They have a tent, or at least the makings of one. Adam has three extra crates of bottled water and some of the home-made, 120 proof whiskey from Mr Algernon who sings in the chorus line. Brad has weed, Twinkies and some organic eyeliners too earthy and flaky to wear at home.

It's a trip. It's another world. It's indescribable.

The heat haze starts before dawn, wavering over the sand long after the sun sinks below a bloody horizon. The sunlight brings up whole new spectrums of color, turning even the slate gray sky of pre-dawn into this prism of color and facet. Kris, seen through the scope of Burning Man, becomes something fantastic. He's brilliant, golden light even when the moon washes away the colors in gray and silver and black, Kris is bright and vibrant and real. He's the thread that Adam follows through Burning Man, trailing Kris across the sand and stumbling over and into interesting people as he tries to close the distance between them.

Adam drinks water, eats brownies from the camping oven of the original version hippy grandmother two yurts and three tents down. He talks religion with a man who sees angels in the plumes of smoke from his cigarette. He fucks a man who is tattooed from his eyebrows to his toes in runes and astrological symbols while a woman chants Zen mantras and a gong and bell beat time. At night, he lies on his back, watching the stars flare and spiral like a Vincent van Gogh painting and talks to them.

Brad loses like ten pounds, whittled away to the essence of himself. Here in the heat and the void where there's no room for deceit or polite fictions, they find out that they really can be friends and Adam's exultant, dancing to the pounding beat of a drum circle under the moon and laughing like a coyote. They don't fuck but they nap together, curled into each other, a yin-yang of connected but separate flesh. It feels good, feels right and Adam tells Brad honestly that he loves him in front of a campfire while Brad threads plastic beads into his hair.

Kris, when Adam can see _him_ not the sunshine-bright nimbus that surrounds him, looks like he's searching for something. In the painful brilliance of the desert and the over-saturated clarity of the colors, Adam is afraid that he'll lose Kris if he takes his eyes off him. So Kris chases colors and lights and Adam chases Kris. He winds up chasing Kris to the foot of the Man, Saturday night as the first torches are lit.

It ends like a dream, Adam doesn't remember breaking up the tent or packing up the hundred and one little trinkets that accumulated over the festival. He remembers getting behind the wheel, thumbs hooked in the wheel and the radio playing low while Brad slouches in the passenger seat, humming to himself. Kris is actually driving, wings fluttering and brushing just under Adam's chin on the corners. Adam is manning the pedals, responding to Kris' quiet nudges. Kris puts the cruise control on once they hit the highway and Adam subsides gratefully into a dreamy half-doze. It's like the five minutes of almost sleep after the snooze button, halfway between awake and unconscious.

There's a bump on the road and Adam wakes all the way back up. It's the first time he's been completely lucid since they turned off the highway. Kris is singing softly and it takes Adam a few seconds to realize that Kris is singing along with the radio. "-at have I done? I don't even know his last name,"

Adam tunes in, throat too dry to sing along. Kris is bopping along to the music, ass wiggling as he sings. He loves music in the same uncomplicated, joyous way he always has and it's cool to see it.

"I don't even know my last name~" Kris warbles as the song fades back into the DJ. There's a burst of applause from Brad and Adam lets go of the wheel to join in. Kris blushes and Brad sits up, pushing up his sunglasses.

"Sweet, in-drive entertainment now? Any chance of a show? I should have some dollar bills left."

Kris frowns at him, baffled and Adam wonders for the thousandth time how Kris has completely failed to pick up innuendo after months of exposure to Brad. "He wants you to take your clothes off, babe."

Brad leers and Kris actually squeaks, going red and glowering at Brad. "Hubba hubba, baby. Carrie Underwood gets me _so_ hot."

"Carrie who?" Adam asks and they both blink at him.

"Philistine," Brad sniffs, full-on diva mode engaged. "You seriously don't recognize the greatest American Idol for the last few years?"

Adam vaguely remembers hearing about American Idol from a boy he had a non-relationship series of hook-ups with back before _Wicked_. It's possible that there's more there but he's still a little loopy from the onset of Culture shock and it's just not sinking in.

Brad snorts, "What rock have you been living under the last few months?"

"Glynda's," Adam deadpans and Kris giggles. Brad rolls his eyes.

"I don't even know how to express the chasm that is your awareness of the awesome that is American Idol."

There's a pause as they all try to follow that sentence's logic. Adam peers thoughtfully across at Brad. "I think I've been insulted. Maybe."

"Like I said," Brad snipes, fishing out a bottle of water from under his seat. "A Philistine."

"Some of us, sweet cheeks," Adam retorts, shifting in his seat so Kris can perch on his hands. "Were working for the last few years."

"Oh, bitch, you did _not_ just call me lazy!"

They bicker for about five miles before Brad straightens up and says casually, "You know they're holding auditions for it later this month."

Adam looks over at him, leaving Kris to steer. "You thinking of going for it?"

He's proud of how matter-of-fact his tone of voice is but Brad doesn't laugh. "Yeah, actually. It's plastic pop, true, but think exposure. Access to record companies. Access to audiences. Get to the finals and you've got a record contract. Don't even try to tell me that shit isn't worth it."

"Mmm," Adam says and changes the subject. They sing along to the radio; Brad has apparently picked up the psychic ability to find *NSYNC songs on every station and he and Kris caterwaul happily until Adam's headache and Kris' empty stomach necessitate pulling into a rest stop.

Brad loses the impromptu rock-paper-scissors over who has to go in and pay. Adam can see the counter clerk getting wide-eyed and thinks that maybe he should have offered Brad a shirt. Kris is tucked up against the collar of Adam's t-shirt, almost invisible in the dust and glitter. Adam hums absently, watching the pump and swaying his hips a little to the beat.

"You should, you know," Kris says randomly and Adam pauses to twist his neck to some impossible angle to look down at him.

"Should what?"

"Go for that show."

Adam's eyebrows shoot up. "You think I should try out for American Idol? Did you keep some mushrooms? Cause a, you shouldn't be driving stoned and b, you should be sharing."

Kris squirms a little, looking out over the highway full of trucks and SUVs before looking up at Adam. "You...you're like _crazily_ talented, man. You could win it, easy."

"America is not really ready for its Idol to be a flaming gay musical star," Adam points out.

Kris frowns at him, wings fluffing up indignantly and Adam reminds himself that snuggling Kris in public is not allowed even if he is being criminally adorable. "Even if that's true," and Adam loves Kris for thinking there is any way in which America's homophobia _isn't_ virulent enough to send him home the first week, "Brad's right. You don't need to win to be scouted. They're going to take one look at you and they're going to be blown away. And I think it would suck if you lost that chance because you're afraid people won't like you."

Adam shakes his head and his hair flicks across Kris' face. Kris makes a face and Adam laughs. Kris thumps his shoulder and pouts when Adam winces. The pump clicks off and Adam gets back into the car as Brad emerges with an armful of sinfully tempting junk food and a wicked smirk. Adam flicks a glance through the window of the station and the clerk looks upright so Brad can't have blown more than his mind. Adam hopes.

He doesn't mention Idol until they're inching through LA traffic. Kris is half-asleep on his shoulder and Brad has his head tipped back. Adam's been thinking about it. He came to LA because he wanted to be a rockstar. He's stayed in LA because he can be himself here, out and glamorous and fuck the haters if they say anything. Kris' offhand comment has rankled the whole way home and Adam's honest enough to admit that it's because there's more truth to it than he wants to admit.

He stops outside the Wal*Mart halfway between their apartment and Brad's and stays in his seat when Brad and Kris stir. Brad opens his door, then pauses when Adam doesn't move. Kris makes a sleepy sound, half-question and Adam turns his head to look at them.

"You're right. Both of you," he takes a deep breath. "I'm going for it."

He spends the next few weeks practicing every song he can think of, singing until Kris threatens him with a frying pan. Kris makes him tea with honey and keeps sneaking cough drops into his pockets. Brad and Cassidy take him out to get drunk when the stress makes him jittery and snappish. He's so wound up that he completely and utterly blanks the audition. If Brad hadn't come with him, Adam might have just left but he does and Adam doesn't. Instead he leaves with his Golden Ticket and a date in Hollywood.

His friends take him out to celebrate that night. It's kinda amazing because all Adam's friends coming out to celebrate? Means that they actually need to book out a club. There are that many people. It's really surreal and Adam spends the first hour kinda dazed from that and accepting drinks from all these people who he does actually know, he just never really kept count of them and he never ever imagined that there were so many people who'd be this happy to see him succeed. His parents are there, and Amy and Neil and even if he never makes it past Hollywood week, Adam thinks it was worth it for this wild evening.

By the second hour, the endless congratulatory drinks are really starting to tell and Adam wakes up on the futon in his mom's hotel room, Kris tucked under the pillow with his wings fanned out under Adam's hair. Then everything is a whirlwind of getting ready and packing (and repacking and re-repacking until Kris calls Cassidy and Brad and they confiscate his luggage and pack for him which is kinda mean).

Hollywood week is a blur. Adam is so focused on being good enough, projecting the right amount of glam and charm to hook this test audience into making him part of the Top 24 that he doesn't really register the other contenders at first. He's focused on performing and texting Kris who is watching at Brad's in the few minutes he's not talking to crew or cameras.

That's where Danny Gokey finds him and really, Adam thinks later, the whole thing wouldn't make a plausible sit-com script. He's been vaguely aware of Danny the whole day, talking to anyone who'd listen and even people who wouldn't. Adam had chalked him up as a blowhard and left it at that. He's tucked up into a corner, thumb flying across the number pad and when he sees footage later, he's smiling.

"Good news?" Danny's voice makes him jump. "Or just texting your girlfriend?"

"Just a friend," Adam's shoulders are tensing up a little. He doesn't know Danny but there's something about the tone that grates.

Danny gives him a big knowing smirk which makes Adam bristle automatically. "That's what I used to say about my wife. Are you sure you're just friends? Because, you know, she might not agree. I didn't figure it out for ages, nearly made it to the altar before she told me."

Adam keeps looking at his phone. "No, just a friend. You have friends, "

Danny pauses and Adam bites his tongue bloody to keep from saying anything else. The insult seems to skim right over his head, thankfully. "Just be sure she knows that, yeah."

"Kris and I aren't likely to get married anytime soon," Adam says sharp-sweet and crisp. "Didn't you notice that Prop 8 passed?"

Danny's jaw actually drops which is kinda a surprise; he'd always figured it was a stupid cliche. Adam has never actually seen someone's jaw literally drop; it makes Danny look stupid and concussed and Adam snaps his phone shut and moves away. He doesn't notice the all-pervasive cameras until after he makes it, sitting on the stool and concentrating fiercely on not toppling over backwards or puking. _It's just another audition,_ he chants to himself but it isn't. Brad and Kris and all the others were right; this is huge. This is probably the best chance he's ever getting.

There's a guy sitting beside him looking kinda stunned and mostly scruffy. He seems nice and he's pinging a little on Adam's finely-honed gaydar. Adam's thinking that maybe he can at least get the guy's number when they go to commercial and he turns to look at Adam and says, in all seriousness, "You're a dickhead, you know that?"

"Excuse me?" Adam says, automatically falling into Queen Bitch mode.

"You," the guy pokes his shoulder and Adam twists away. "Are a dick, man. Danny's not the most socially skilled guy in the room but you had no right to treat him like that."

" _Excuse_ me," Adam repeats, shoulders going back and eyes narrowing. "But the fuck is it your business?"

"We're all here to compete," the guy says. "That doesn't mean you have to be an ass about it."

"So _he_ 's an intrusive, homophobic asshole but it's _my_ fault," Adam says coldly, folding his arms. "That's what you're trying to say here, is it?"

And that's how Adam meets David Cook. It's also the first real bit of tension in the show so it gets _milked_ and Adam retreats to sulk in his hotel room. He wants to talk to Kris and he wants some of Kris' pancakes which are hell on his hips but heaven on his tongue and right now Adam wants to sulk and be spoilt and Kris is sitting on Cassidy's couch on speaker-phone and it's a rotten day that is finally thankfully over.

...Adam should really learn not to dare Brad like that, even when he's only _thinking_ it.

"So," Brad says after they have agreed that David Cook is an asshole and Adam can totally take him. "I call custody."

"What?" Adam, Cassidy and Kris say together.

"You are not sending Tinkerbell back to hang around that empty apartment all alone," Brad declares. "He needs company and I have a drawer free."

Adam hears Kris' faint "Dick!" and the sound of someone (hopefully Brad) getting thumped. "Why do you get to have Kris? I could totally keep him here, I have, like, a whole hotel room."

"You sent us pictures," Brad reminds him. "It's _beige_ , bitch. Where exactly were you thinking you'd hide Tiny and Glittery here?"

"That's not the _point_ ," Adam whines, flopping back on his bed and wincing when his belt digs into his kidneys. "You do not get to poach my room-mate just because I'm..."

"Living the dream?" Brad says sugar-sweet and faux-charming. "You knew there'd be sacrifices, baby."

"Yeah, but-" Adam snaps petulantly then trails off because he's supposed to be a fucking adult. He's not supposed to be sulking this badly just because he can't have his best friend living with him while he tries to make it as a rockstar.

"I know it's hard, babe, but it'll be worth it. You've come so far already." Cassidy says reassuringly and then spoils it by adding "And I'll take good care of Kris, I promise."

The ensuing bitch-fight is hilarious and Adam is sorta smiling when Kris absconds with the phone and retreats to what sounds like the balcony. "So, um, are you sure I can't just stay with you? Or the apartment?"

Adam bites his lip and it takes a supreme effort of will to be a grown-up about this but he manages. Barely. "I don't like the idea of you being alone, baby. I wish you could be here but..."

Kris sighs heavily and Adam swears that he can _hear_ his wings drooping. "I know. It just, y'know, sucks." There's another, heavier sigh and Adam feels a little better at Kris' obviously bummed tone. "I miss you."

"Miss you too, babe." Adam manages through a suddenly choked-up throat. "Tell those two to settle this like adults and don't stay up all night, okay?"

"...you want them to have a drinking match?" Kris says dry and a little rough. "What have I done to you lately?"

Adam laughs and there's someone knocking on the door to tell him it's lights out. Adam thanks her and says goodnight to Kris, opening his smaller bag to pull out his t-shirt and sweatpants. Something small and plastic falls out and bounces under the bed. Curious (and kinda desperately hoping Brad didn't pack sex-toys), Adam roots it out. It's a small yellow Tinkerbell night-light.

He stares at it for a few minutes, eyes prickling and a huge goofy smile across his face. Then Adam wipes his eyes and adds a reminder to his phone to buy Brad a kick-ass Christmas present. He plugs the night-light in over the dresser and goes to sleep.

 _Idol_ turns out to be real _work_ which maybe shouldn't be such a surprise. Adam feels like a kid in a candy store, bouncing around from technicians to mentors to the backing musicians (who buy him booze if he chips into the Idol-pot). There's so much to learn and he spends half the night on the phone to Kris and whichever of Adam's friends is currently enjoying custody raving about the whole thing.

Kris has figured out how to use the auto-dialer to vote multiple times for Adam and his friends have started holding viewing parties and there's a few vague mentions of his mom which Adam tries not to think too hard about. She and his Dad call every evening too and Neil keeps getting his voice mail and has started leaving some really weird messages.

It helps to have a hundred million calls every day and Kris always free to take his calls because the other Idols are awkward. There's a girl, Megan who Adam actually gets along with and she's pretty much the only thing keeping him sane. He and Cook are still sniping at each other and it's complicated by the fact that they guy's actually pretty much Adam's main rival. He's got a cool voice, he's (sorta) hot and he's pretty laid-back and cool.

He's also the world's biggest dickhead (not that Adam is biased or anything).

He's hanging out with Michael Johns mostly. Somehow, he still finds the time to back up Mike Sarver and Danny who have this careful ostracism dance going on and it fucking sucks. Adam's long since out of the habit of apologizing for his existence but every second spent having to deal with Danny's big faux-jovial smirk and the sly whispers from him and Sarver is an inch closer to an actual ulcer. Cook isn't really part of that but having picked his side in this whole clusterfuck, he seems determined to stick to it.

Adam winds up making friends with two of the other guys despite everything; Matt and Anoop who are both 'straight' (gaydar says: bi-curious) but honestly seem to think that Danny's going too far, rather than that this is a surefire way into Adam's pants. It's enough to keep Adam going through the first few weeks.

The judges honestly don't seem to know what to do with him. Randy pauses a lot and seems to be picking his words really carefully. Paula watches him like she's expecting him to do something really outrageous. Simon seems to like him just because everyone else is panicking at the potential train-wreck that is a gay Idol. He might also actually believe Adam is that talented. Adam thinks, either way, when this is over, he probably owes Simon a fruit basket.

The weekly votes are harrowing; he's good enough that he can sail through the first few weeks even if he's a nervous wreck by the end of each show. It's crazy and he's killing it every time. He's one of the first to make it to safety every week. Paula comes around too, singing his praises and complimenting him on the weirdest things.

He and David Cook avoid each other religiously. They're pretty much trading off top spot week by week and it turns out that Cook is really kinda competitive. As much as Adam hates to admit to having anything in common with his 'nemesis', they are both going into the weekly performances aiming to beat each other. It pushes Adam to his limits and Kris starts to sound a little worried when they talk at night.

It's doing wonders for the ratings, Brad tells him, because underneath the glitter, Brad is a statistics geek. Adam doesn't really follow the figures but it doesn't surprise him. The song choices are always polar opposites, he's getting asked so many leading questions in his solo slots and he and Cook are always kept apart during the publicity shots. Ryan is practically smacking his lips over the growing tension between them when they and the other finalists move into the Idol Mansion. Adam spends the night before on the phone to Kris, paranoid that they're going to try and lump him with Cook.

"The ratings would be massive," he mourns. "They've been thinking about this since Sarver got eliminated, I just know they have."

"If they're worrying about you being gay damaging the 'family-friendly' image, I'm fairly sure that they aren't going to want actual live-on-camera murder happening in the mansion." Kris points out logically. "They're greedy but they're not _stupid_."

Kris is excited because the week after next, Adam actually gets to go home for a weekend and he's full of plans. Adam approves of the ones involving sleep, Kris' cooking and Kris. He winds up owing Kris ice-cream because Kris is right. Despite the potential ratings bonanza, he's sharing a room with Matt.

It's a good week and Adam's feeling awesome. Then Matt is eliminated and god, it fucking sucks. He's made it to the Top 10 and he tells Adam that that means a recording contract which is all he really wanted. Adam hugs him and helps him carry his bags out and hugs him and makes him promise to call.

Then he goes upstairs and calls Kris so he doesn't notice how empty the room feels. Kris does most of the talking, telling him about how Cassidy sewed felt hearts on the inside of Brad's boxers and how Brad was worrying that one of his ex-boyfriends might have stolen a memory card.

Yeah, in retrospect, Adam definitely should have been paying more attention to that.

So, the pictures leak on Wednesday night, really Thursday morning and Adam wakes up to a PR meltdown. The Idol staff are almost hysterical; not because they didn't _know_ Adam was gay (that was just never going to work) or because Adam himself has done anything that could constitute a breach of his contract (Adam's pretty sure the legal department has checked, then double-checked on that). No, they're running damage control because, to Adam's honest amazement, firing him is not only not an option, it would apparently make everything so much worse.

There have been some people calling in to complain which, okay, Adam was kinda braced for. What he wasn't expecting was that some of his internet fans have organized mass phone-ins urging 19 and FOX to support him. Adam winds up in meetings, the whole day which really, really screws with his performance rehearsals.

"Okay, so the cat is out of the bag," one of the producers says at last. "We don't want this to become the big issue. This is a distraction and we can't afford to get mired in this. We don't dwell on this, we say 'yeah okay, Lambert's gay but have you heard him sing?', understand?"

It's possibly the only time in Adam's _life_ that he has wished he wasn't such an awesome performer. He nods, he smiles and he bites his tongue on every vicious, emotional response before it can get past his teeth. He leaves them smiling and talking about playing up _Idol_ 's inclusive nature and the goodwill they're going to get from 'minority' groups.

Adam totters up to his room, winds up sitting with his back against the bed and his knees drawn up as he breathes. He feels soured and cheapened by the whole thing and he's tempted to just crawl into the shower and scrub until the soiled feeling goes away. Instead he fumbles out his phone and presses speed-dial.

"Hello?" Kris' voice is bright and Adam's breath shudders out. "Adam? What is it? Are you okay?"

"I-" Adam swallows. "Honestly, baby, I don't know. I don't think- I think I'm fucking this up."

"Tell me about it," Kris says, serious and supportive and Adam opens his mouth and it all comes pouring out. Every doubt, the way he keeps skipping food because there are seriously cameras _everywhere_ , that Meg's freaking out about next week and the room feels ridiculously empty. It isn't until Kris gently points out that Adam hasn't slept alone for the last ten years that Adam realities why.

"And I fucking miss you," Adam says at last, voice rasping and his eyeliner is probably smeared all over his face but he feels better, more centered. "It's been like a month and I'm calling you all the time but it's not the same."

"I'd hope not," Kris says with a smile that Adam can almost see. "Can't replace me that easily, man."

"You're coming on Friday, right?" Adam says and Kris hums. "I'm serious - I will skip the clubbing if it means that I can see you."

"Such a sacrifice," Kris teases.

"Damn right," Adam says primly. "Seriously, though, you are going to be there."

"Wouldn't miss it," Kris promises. "You should get some sleep. I'm going to be really demanding company."

"Well, I knew that," Adam laughs around a yawn. "I don't wanna hang up yet."

"I'll sing you to sleep," Kris offers which means that he doesn't want to hang up either. Adam hums agreement and Kris starts to sing 'May it be'.

"You've been watching Lord of the Rings again," Adam accuses sleepily and Kris laughs, threading it into the song and Adam slips into dreams of Brad with hairy feet and Kris in a flowing white dress.

He wakes up with the dial tone burring against his ear and a crick in his neck. He feels fantastic.

Friday is odd; the official story has been handed out and the other five Idols are watching him with wide eyes. Anoop has coffee waiting for him and when Adam thanks him, shrugs a shoulder and says "That producer was a dick. I wanted to kick him after five minutes. You were in meetings for five hours with him. You deserve coffee."

Adam hugs him, one-armed so he doesn't spill the coffee. "That's so sweet."

"Hey, some of us," Anoop wriggles away and smooths out his shirt. "Are planning to take advantage of the fact that you've just broken millions of hearts. There are women out there in need of love and support and I'm just the guy to help them through this difficult time."

Adam loses it, laughing so hard he does spill some coffee. He's still smiling when he troops in to hear all about the theme for this week. It's Country and Western and Adam doesn't even care that he knows like one song that could fit under that category because it's _Friday_ and that means that in just a few hours, Adam is going to have a Kris.

He bounces out of the mansion, waving to Johns who is standing beside Cook. He keeps smiling even when Cook makes a weirded out face and waves hesitantly back. He's got a bag slung over his shoulder and has already texted Brad to warn him that he's going to pillage his dresser and eyeliner stash.

"You heading out?" Johns asks unnecessarily.

"Yup," Adam grins. "My friends are forgetting what I look like."

"No televisions?" Cook says but it's more joke than insult and it bounces harmlessly off Adam's invincible good cheer.

"Some of them have actual lives, Cook," he says loftily. "Shocking as it may seem."

He hops into the car that's going to drop him to Cassidy's apartment Cassidy is current custody holder (according to the arcane schedule Alisan emailed him) which means Kris will be there.

About two miles away, Adam winds down the screen between them and says "I know I gave you an address but actually-" because he was stupid. Kris isn't going to be waiting in Cassidy's apartment for him.

Adam bounds up the creaky stairs to their apartment and the door is open by the time he makes it up the last flight. Kris peeks out from behind the open door and zips across the landing to latch onto Adam's neck. Adam drops his bag and reaches up to cradle Kris and his smile threatens to split his face. "Hey, baby."

"Hey," Kris says, muffled and not letting go. "You're home."

"Yeah," Adam says, hugging him close and kicking the door closed. "Yeah, I am."

Kris does eventually lets go but he keeps circling back to settle on Adam's shoulder or poke his arm while the pots simmer. Adam tells him all about the other Idol wannabes and the music and the all the little things that he's been hoarding up to share like this, where he can see Kris sputter and blush and smile. Kris looks a little thinner but Adam doesn't really think he's in any place to point fingers.

They go out much later, not to one of the usual clubs but to a small bar run by one of Cassidy's friends. It's one of those almost local bars with live music and sheltered booths where Kris can sit on the table and take part in the conversation. Adam relaxes and just basks in it.

He falls into bed, lulled to sleep by Kris' breathing from the pillow by his bed. Adam wakes late, slouches around the kitchen while Kris makes him an utterly unhealthy breakfast with eggs and bacon and non-whole-wheat toast. He doesn't shower until like three and he bums around in scruffy, frayed jeans and a worn-out sequined upcycled t-shirt that Cassidy played around with for most of the afternoon.

"Bum," Kris teases, zipping past to hover over the coffee machine.

"No cameras in this kitchen, baby," Adam points out, sipping at the smoothie Kris had made him. "I'm enjoying this while it lasts."

"It's really screwing with you, isn't it?" Kris settles on his shoulder, wings brushing Adam's cheek.

"It's not that bad," Adam lies. "It isn't, it's just wearing me out. There's like no time to call you." Kris politely doesn't call bullshit on that one and Adam waves a hand. "Not as much as I'd like to talk to you. I'm spoiled back here, that's all."

"Mmm," Kris makes popcorn and they watch all three X-men films from a cocoon of blankets and cushions on the rug.

Sunday flies past, Adam gets in some quality time with the rest of his friends to talk about the show and the word on the streets (or internets, in this case). He also gets to offer some choice words about the care and feeding of his fairy which makes Brad laugh and Cassidy throw peanuts at him.

He finds out why when he gets back to the Mansion and tosses his bag onto his beds.

"Oof!" the bag says. Adam double-takes and pokes it. Kris pops out, hair mussed up and wild.

"The _fuck_?" Adam asks eloquently, flailing a little.

"You've been lonely," Kris says, like he didn't just _sneak in Adam's bag._ "And you don't have a room-mate any more."

Adam opens his mouth to argue before his brain kicks in to ask what the fuck he's arguing for? Kris is here and Adam can feel the looming tension drop just from that. It isn't going to be fun for Kris but there's a double elimination looming and three weeks tops after that and Adam's suddenly sure that he's going to be here for the whole of those three weeks.

Kris joins him in the shower and they rock through the greatest hits of Abba before Adam has to run to do his hair and make-up before the drivers arrive to take them to rehearsals Kris tidies the room and sneaks downstairs for snacks. He's got his phone and, judging by the busy signals Adam's getting from Cassidy and Brad, he's talking to people plenty. Adam smiles to himself and turns to considering his choice of songs. He has it down to three before the practice time runs out.

Adam promises to have an actual, honest-to-god song tomorrow and they pile into the limo and Johns goes straight for the champagne and starts talking about next show.

"You picked your song?" Kris asks when Adam retreats to his room.

"I'm not sure," Adam taps his fingers. "I'm thinking Johnny Cash actually."

"You could do the Fire song," Kris says, smile badly hidden.

"'Ring of Fire', you mean?" Adam teases. "You're a philistine."

It's not like Kris doesn't know most of Cash's songs - he plays along when Adam's singing - but he and Brad had a very heated disagreement about it at Burning Man and it's been 'the Fire song' ever since. Adam laughs and it's so normal that it borders on the surreal.

He sings through his personal version of it, Kris strumming along and joining in to add his own rougher voice to the chorus. Adam lets the last note trail off and opens his eyes. Kris sets his guitar down and looks up at him,.

"Yeah," Adam says, taking a deep breath. "Yeah, I'm going to do that one."

"Awesome," Kris says simply.

He rocks the performance that week, "Ring of Fire" goes down a storm and even Simon is left pretty much speechless. He keeps blinking at Adam like Adam's really done something that extraordinary which is flattering and freaky in about equal measure. Adam's used to Simon being sardonic and back-handed with the compliments, the honest approval is something else altogether. Adam's smile might be a permanent fixture.

Adam's the first one across the stage and he's riding such an epic high that he doesn't even care when Ryan sends Cook to join him a minute later. There's a shockwave of nervous energy sparking just inside his skin and Adam has to focus really hard on keeping still and relaxed. Anoop and Johns bite the dust, Megan only just saved and Adam hugs her and there's tears, lots of tears.

When they get back to the mansion, someone (Kris) has smuggled in half a liquor cabinet; vodka, Malibu, Kahlua and the ice trays have been topped up. Adam, channeling his barista past, offers to make Megan any cocktail she can describe. Anoop objects on the grounds that he clearly needs more booze than Meg and Adam winds up giving him a half pint glass filled with enough alcohol to strip paint off the ceiling overhead.

It goes downhill from there. Or maybe uphill. Adam's far too drunk to care.

He wakes up in his own bed and thanks God for small mercies as he scrambles for the bathroom and his toothbrush. Judging by the taste, something small, acrid and hairy died in his mouth last night and Adam's stomach, already uneasy after the whole 'getting up' thing, lurches and threatens to turn itself inside out. He hangs onto the marble sink and wonders dimly if he can lean over to throw up into the toilet without toppling face-first into the fittings.

There's a glass of water and four Tylenol beside his toothbrush and a travel-sized bottle of the mouthwash Brad's mom sends him from time to time and Alisan christened the 'Hell in a Bottle'. Adam brushes his teeth, drinks the water, takes the pills and washes his mouth out, saying a feverent prayer of thanks for benevolent fairies and their magic.

By the time he's showered and staggered muzzily back out into the bedroom, Adam's thawing towards a semblance of humanity. "Kris, have you seen-"

"Kris?" David Cook mumbles, head lifting from the pillows on what used to be Matt's bed. "'M not Kris. I'm....David?"

"Sorry, sorry," Adam has one hand anchored around the corner of his towel. "I'm having room-mate flashbacks."

"Didn't you used to room with Matt?" Cook asks as he tries and fails to sit up. "I don't remember a Kris."

"No, Kris is my roommate from home," Adam says, clinging to his towel like a lifeline and floundering frantically through his memories of last night to explain what the everloving fuck David Cook is doing in his room. "He's the one with a ridiculous alcohol tolerance so he's the designated adult."

"Designated adult?" Cook rolls over and yeah, bloodshot eyes, disheveled hair and all the signs of what must have been an epic binge. There's a glass of water by the bedside; Kris again because he's never stopped being the perfect Southern stereotype when it comes to niceness.

"Yeah, he says it's easy just to work around me after a late night," Adam's peering around as surreptitiously as he can. No sign of Kris, which means he's probably hiding until Cook wakes up enough to fuck off. There's a thread of anger in Adam's fuzzy brain; Cook's intruding. Cook's making Kris hide away like a dirty secret and Adam's ruffled, not angry - yet - but working his way up there. He wants Cook to go away. Short-term, Adam would be happy if he could just stay down long enough for Adam to grab his clothes and make it back to the bathroom.

"Man, sounds like he's a saint," Cook makes it more or less upright, swaying a lot but sort of steady. He looks green. "We don't have to be at studio today, right?"

Adam's lips quirk despite himself at the plaintive tone. "Not 'til later, no."

"Oh, thank _God_ ," Cook mumbles and starts to shuffle for the door. Adam grabs up the small pile of fresh clothes and backs into the bathroom as soon as Cook's back is turned.

It's a quiet day, everyone deep in contemplation of their hangovers. Anoop makes Adam promise to email him the mix for the paint-peeling cocktail and Johns insists on getting his number because he and his wife are moving to LA and Adam can have his own wing in their house if he willing to supply cocktails at barbecues and house parties. It's kinda sweet, actually.

Adam smuggles Kris into the studios by judicious use of hoody and Kris' unfeigned and absolute delight makes it worth having to record three identical versions of the same song because the producer is feeling artistic (or malicious, Adam's not sure). Kris sings with him that night, perched on the windowsill and staring out at the lights while Adam drowses on the bed.

"It's so bright," Kris says, wondering and wistful and Adam hums. "From here, it kinda looks like..."

"Like?" Adam prompts, hovering on the edge of sleep because Kris' tone is setting off warning bells.

"Like home," Kris says and the surprise pushes back his exhaustion enough that Adam can open one eye. "The lights and the...the energy, I guess? Back home, there's always someone starting their day. If the dryads are asleep, the dwarves'll start work. I used to spend the night by the windows when I couldn't sleep and my mom would come sometimes and sit with me and tell me who was awake and what they were doing. It's still weird that the stars stay the same but it's close enough, you know?"

Adam knows a little about home-sickness, enough to know the way the unfamiliar can be warped into something dear with just a lot of desperation and the need to not be only one alone in a new place. He lifts a hand, feeling like someone's packed lead under his skin and mumbles a little.

Kris' wings flex in a nervous flutter. "It's-...I-...Ten years, nearly. I thought it would be easier to miss it now."

Adam hears him, tone registering more than words but he's so fucking shattered and Kris doesn't talk about his family so Adam doesn't know what to say, how to make this right and his eyes won't stay open. Kris is singing something slow and bittersweet as Adam sinks into sleep. His dreams that night are tangled, confusing and he wakes with a crick in his neck and a foul mood that survives Kris' sunny "Good morning!" and the coffee waiting for him.

He's morose through studio time and into the costuming discussion. Danny tries to ask him about it and Adam looks for cameras before he can censor himself. Megan is furiously focused and Adam thinks she might be over-stressing it and Cook is just watching him with unfocused intensity and Adam wants them to go away and give him time to process.

Because Fate hates him, this is the point at which his life gets _crazy_. The demands of the publicity people ramp up, there's a hundred and one interviews and if it wasn't for Casey the awesome PA, Adam wouldn't even know who's he's supposed to be talking to. Studio time becomes gold dust, not just because Ryan and the production team keep casually dropping viewing numbers and projected ratings and even Cook is starting to sweat under the scrutiny. In the studio means that you're not available for interviews or soundbites or soulful one-on-one sessions with the cameras.

"She's not going to make it," Kris says sadly when Adam gets back to his room, frazzled and punch-drunk with exhaustion. The rerun of tonight's show is winding up on the small TV screen. "Is she?"

"I don't know," Adam says, then sighs. "Probably, though."

"She seems really nice," Kris is watching as the camera skims past Megan and Adam winces at how plastic her smile looks.

"She is," Adam says honestly and bites his tongue on the whole argument about this contest not being for the nicest person and the music industry's habit of eating the naive alive.

Meg goes home the next night and there's more tears but less alcohol and Meg sits up with Adam until the sky is graying towards dawn. Adam hugs her, promises to keep in touch and reminds her that they still have the tour to come. Megan smiles sadly and she seems smaller, lacking some of the vital energy that Adam associates with her.

Three men standing and it hikes up the pressure, the scrutiny and Adam has to bite his tongue every time he gets within a hundred feet of Danny. He honestly did not think that it was possible for him to hate being around Danny any more than he already did. He's half-afraid that his face might be stuck in the faux-cheerful publicity smile he's been wearing.

Danny murders his Aerosmith song on Tuesday. It's actually painful to watch and Adam is sitting in the green room watching the feed from the judges' camera and he's wincing even before they get to Simon. Paula is frowning a little, mouth drawn down as she waves her hands and spends something like five minutes talking around the performance and looking for something to praise. Simon just shakes his head and sits back.

"I think Paula's complete inability to find anything worth praising in that performance says everything I wanted to say, Ryan."

Cook sings "Hey Jude" and Randy is over the moon about it, jumping around in his seat and the crowd is cheering wildly. Ryan ducks back into the green room for a bottle of water. "Boy, I'm glad we have extra security tonight."

"What? Why?" Adam is texting Kris but he looks up to see Ryan getting sweat mopped off his face and make-up artists hovering.

"The fans, man," Ryan shakes his head. "Yours specifically. Well, yours and Cook's. Cuban Missile Crisis, I'm telling you. All itchy fingers."

"...you know I still have to go out there, right?" Adam checks, thumbing 'send' and standing up.

"Oh yeah," Ryan flashes shiny white teeth at him. "Break a leg, dude."

"Oh, gee, thanks," Adam dead-pans as he puts his phone away and takes a deep breath.

The adrenaline kicks in and he blasts through the song and even before Ryan crosses the stage, Adam knows he's through. He smiles, feeling the joy and the _light_ inside him radiating out. The audience is a unified animal, howling and cheering in one crashing tidal wave of sonic power. All that love, crazy and wild and unashamed and this, this is what he wants. This is worth the sacrifices and the hellish hours. This one perfect flawless second.

Adam rides the high all the way home and he's still soaring through the good vibe when Danny gets sent home and it's just him and Cook. The publicity ramps up _again_ and Adam's on the other side of giddy, sleep-walking between the cameras. He's _on_ ; nailing the mood and right words and it's awesome, unreal and Adam feels like a shooting star, blazing and brilliant with everyone turning to see.

The publicity and the relentless attention during practices means that his time with Kris is skinned to the bone. Kris winds up sleeping on Adam's pillow, a tiny bundle of golden skin and amber-warm wings. The night before the final, everything hovering and just waiting to fall into place, Adam tosses his notes onto the empty bed, falls back on to his bed. "I'm done. Fuck this. I'm fucking done."

Kris looks up from where he's noodling along on his guitar, eyebrow raised. "Not 'til tomorrow, you're not."

"I'm done rehearsing," Adam clarifies, pushing up on an elbow. "It's all fine and I'm this close to being sick of _everything_. I need some air."

"Nearly past curfew," Kris points out but he's tucking away his guitar and fluttering across the room to land on Adam's shoulder. "Where do you wanna go?"

"Somewhere without people," Adam decides, shrugging into his scruffiest hoody. "Somewhere where you can stretch your wings and I don't have to worry about you being seen."

"In LA?" Kris mocks, hopping neatly aside then snuggling back into the folds of the collar. "There's the park?"

"Perfect," Adam grabs his wallet and phone and leaves a message for security, asking for privacy and swearing on his flat iron that he's only going to the park. Kris brings his Bluetooth headset and hooks it over Adam's ear.

"So we can talk and you won't look like a crazy person," Kris pauses and looks at Adam's scruffy hoody, ripped jeans and biking boots. "Well, _more_ like a crazy person."

"Brains and beauty, babe," Adam grins wide and affectionate. "You're just too good to be true."

Kris laughs and Adam jogs to the park, keeping his hood up and a wary eye out for photographers and camera-phones. Security are orbiting, nodding discreetly and checking he has his phone. Adam thanks Seth, who's acting supervisor and a really cool guy, and waves goodbye until he's safely behind the perfectly manicured hedges.

He puts his hood down and Kris zips out, wings stretching out as far they go and looping high speed circles around Adam. Adam laughs himself breathless and has to prop his hands on his knees until he can catch his breath. Kris is spelling out I-D-O-L in gold and glitter and in the dense, shaded twilight between the hedges, it's magic, unreal and Adam laughs, joy bubbling up.

Then Kris freezes, light snuffing out like someone flicked a light switch and Adam's laughter strangles in his throat. Kris' eyes look huge, his body tensed and wings shivering just enough to keep him up. He's radiating wariness, fear and determination.

"Adam," and it isn't a plea, isn't an order but Adam's nodding all the same and there's a reek in the air, rotten and dead things, like fertilizer but worse. Adam thinks of rotten meat and desiccated skin and dead, decay in one putrid cloud. Kris shoots away, deeper into the hedges. There's a tree, bare black branches against the dull glow of the city lights.

The smell is thicker, almost oily against his skin and his tongue and the hedges are yellowed, browning leaves withered on the branches. The grass is sparse and dry and dead underfoot. Adam's trembling, hurrying after Kris and cataloging the wreckage of the park before them. Kris' light is flaring up again; sharp and bright like a photographer's flash but gold and Adam sees something gray and greasy and not entirely substantial. No, some _things_.

They were crowded around the roots of the tree, straining up to the first major fork. It looks like there are stars, dim and just visible through the twigs and the twisted branches. Kris sings, something fierce and tribal and kinda maybe folk or country overtones. The things recoil, twisting and writhing into new shapes and tangles and Adam opens his mouth and sings, threading his voice into the melody and faltering a little but putting his voice behind it and singing louder.

The smell rises, an almost visible fog then the things are coiling and sinking and oozing away into the roots of the tree and gone. Gone, thank God and Adam lets the song trail away. Kris is shining, looking fierce and noble and radiating beautiful golden light. Adam opens his mouth but before he can say anything-

"K-Kris?" A soft hesitant voice makes Adam look up at the tree.

"KRIS!?!" One of the 'stars' flares up, a rainbow of red and purple and warm colors and tones and flashes down out of the tree to plow into Kris headlong, squealing and babbling. The other 'star' follows, only a little slower and more dignified and they both latch onto Kris and there's a high, delirious chatter filling the air.

Adam hears Seth's footsteps and looks frantically around. There's nowhere to hide and his hoody is threadbare and there's no way he's going to be able to hide the light-show in progress.

"Kris," he hisses. "Oh my god, Kris! Security's coming."

Kris looks up and nods, then he bends his head to talk to the two other fairies. The chatter dies down and Kris drags them both over and tucks all three of them into Adam's hood. Adam pulls up his hood and tries to look confused (not really a stretch) and clueless (again, not a reach).

"Adam?" Seth sounds relieved and officious and he touches his earbud. "Got him. You okay? Need an ambulance? Cops?"

"No, I'm good," Adam looks around. "Thought I saw some lights or something." He shrugs at Seth's eloquent glance. "I think I've been working too hard."

"Maybe you should call it a night?" Seth suggests pointedly and Adam smiles, aiming for rueful but there's a shifting weight just against the back of his neck, soft skin and tiny hands and it's really, _really_ fucking distracting.

They're only a couple of blocks from the mansion but Seth insists on walking him the whole way back which means Adam has to act natural the whole way. He pleads exhaustion and escapes at the front door, promising truthfully that he's going straight up to his room and he's not going to go out again tonight.

The second he's in the door, Adam pulls down his hood and the fairies tumble out to land on the bed. Kris lands, wings still half-raised and ready and he looks up to smile at Adam. Adam is far more interested in the two new fairies. They're actually smaller than Kris, a pale boy with a silver-green glow and dark hair and eyes and a pretty girl with fiery scarlet hair, dark eyes and rich royal purple wings.

Both of them are staring at Kris, wide-eyed and awed and Adam has to shove back the urge to snatch Kris up and hide him away. "Going to introduce me, baby?"

The two fairies blink up at him; the girl looks approving and the boy looks a little weirded out, backing up a little. Then he looks at Kris who is scratching the back of his neck and looking a little embarrassed. Then he looks up at Adam and his eyes go really wide.

"I'm Allison," the girl says, waving up at him. "And your eyes look _amazing_!"

"I like her," Adam says immediately and Kris cracks up, wings fanning out to keep his balance as he folded up around a laugh.

"Uh," the boy looks at him then at Kris. "I'm David Archuleta-"

"-but everyone calls him Archie," Kris and Allison finish in unison and Adam's eyebrow goes up.

"Oh-kay," Adam crouches down and waves two-fingers. "Good to meet you guys, I'm Adam-"

"Oh my GOD!" Allison flails a little, wings threshing around. "You're from the show! With the music and the voting!"

Archie looks blank and Kris looks wary. Allison rolls her eyes and thumps Archie on the shoulder. "The one with the posters?"

"Oh," Archie looks back up at Adam and bites his lip. "Um, well, I guess if His Highness thinks you're um, 'good people'? That's good enough for me, you know?"

"Good people?" Kris says.

" _His Highness_!?" Adam says at exactly the same time.

One horribly convoluted explanation later, Adam pinches his nose and holds up a hand. "So, you really _are_ a prince?"

"The Crown Prince," Archie says helpfully from where he and Allison are working their way through the large pizza and Coke that Adam ordered in.

"The Crown Prince, right," Adam drops his hand to stare at Kris who is sitting cross-legged on his pillow. "And you didn't think to mention this because...?"

"I didn't see the point," Kris admits. "My family thought I was dead, I didn't know how to go home and it just didn't seem to matter."

"It would have been nice to know!"

"It- I wasn't Crown Prince, I couldn't _be_ Crown Prince and I didn't want it to make things weird!" Kris waves his hands helplessly. "It wasn't important."

"But you're the Crown Prince!" Allison and Archie say around mouths full of pizza.

"I was _dead_ ," Kris corrects, "As far as anyone knew, I was dead and gone. Daniel's the Crown Prince now."

"But he sucks," Allison says after swallowing. "I mean, he's an awesome dude but he's kinda a crummy Crown Prince. He really, really doesn't want to be Crown Prince and he's kinda being a brat about it."

"Alli's right," Archie says, all solemn and mature with tomato sauce smeared around his mouth like a clown's makeup. "You are an awesome prince and everyone's been praying and hoping that you survived."

"Praying and hoping," Adam says cynically. "As opposed to actually looking for him, yes?"

"We did!" Allison objects. "Katy never stopped looking and man, she's going to be so psyched. I cannot wait to see her face!"

"Katy?" Adam asks, stomach sinking. "You had a girlfriend?"

"What? _Katy_? No, no, no, no, man, no." Allison is bouncing around. "Katy's his Protector."

"His what?" Adam wonders if there's any more Tylenol in the bathroom cabinet. He doesn't think he should be mixing it with the emergency booze but right now, he thinks a blackout would be _beautiful_. His mind, which hates him, offers the picture of a butch looking condom and Adam really, really hates his brain. "Is that like a condom?"

"What's a condom?" Archie asks and Kris has to burrow under the pillow to hide the hysterical laughter. Adam's jaw works for a moment.

"Uh, I'll tell you when you're older," Adam tries again to estimate Archie's age and comes up with 'jailbait'. "So, what _is_ a Protector then?"

"His Champion, technically," Allison explains a bit more and Adam really tries to see what she's talking about but yeah, the condom image is sticking despite his best efforts.

"She's like Lancelot? Only for Kris and she fights fairies for him?" Adam hazards, vaguely remembering something like that from _Spamalot_.

"Lancelot?" Allison says blankly. Archie whispers in her ear and she brightens up. "Yes! Lancelot, the greatest knight of Arthur's court, yes!"

Adam stares at her for a minute and wonders wistfully if there's any chance someone in the studio slipped acid into his bottled water. "I'm going to go downstairs and-...I'm going downstairs. You want anything?"

"Water?" Kris pokes his head out from under the pillow to look hopefully up at Adam.

"Sure thing, babe," Adam looks at Allison who wraps her arms around Kris and snuggles in. "Back in a second."

Archie flies after him and Adam stops on the stairs to look up at him. "You need something, kiddo? I can carry a bottle of water all by myself, I promise."

"Adam?" Cook sticks his head out of his room because Adam's day didn't suck enough already. "Who're yo-Holy _shit_!"

Archie eeps. Literally makes this little _eep_ like a baby kitten. Then he dives behind Adam, as if Cook might forget he was there. Then he starts apologizing. "Oh my gosh, oh my heck, oh my god, I'm so sorry, oh my gosh-"

Cook is still staring at him and Adam closes his eyes and drops his head to thump against the banister. He really, really wants to get drunk and there's like, zero chance that Seth or any of the other security guards are going to make a run to the local bar for him. Not on the night before the final.

"Archie," he says, waving a hand towards Cook. "Meet David Cook. Cook, this is David Archuleta, better known as Archie. Try not to terrorize him too much."

"Adam," Cook says carefully, "That's a _fairy_!?"

"He's right there, you know," Adam points out. "And yeah, he's a fairy."

"...the everloving fuck?" Cook demands eloquently. "Why do you have a fairy following you around, Lambert?"

"I was just asking him that," Adam points out and Archie babbles another stream of apologies, peeking out around Adam. Cook comes out onto the landing and leans over the railing to look at him and Adam can actually see the moment when Cook falls for the big eyes and the lip-biting cute. His shocked expression softens into something warmer and he actually leans past Adam to get a better look at Archie who has subsided into a mortified and miserable silence.

"Wow, you're kinda adorable, aren't you?" Cook has that lopsided half-smile that Adam alternates between wanting to punch and thinking it's sorta cute. Archie eeps again and Adam has to move fast to catch him when he tries to hide behind his wings. Cook lunges to catch Archie, far too late but Adam has him.

"Y'okay?" He asks, because Archie is shaking and going red and he's even tinier than Kris and Adam is really hoping he didn't actually crush Kris' childhood friend or whatever Archie is to him. Cook comes down the stairs to look at Archie who is nodding furiously and apologizing again.

Adam watches Cook, wonders if he looked that enraptured the first time he saw Kris. Cook's still got a small half-smile playing around his lips and he's staring at Archie who is still a little curled up, still red and _still_ apologizing Adam thinks for a second then mentally shrugs and raises his voice. "Kris? Does Archie come with an off switch or do I just wait for him to pass out from lack of oxygen?"

Kris' head pops out of Adam's room and he ducks back when he sees Cook, peering out more cautiously a second later. Adam lifts his hand a little, biting back a laugh when Cook straightens up a little to follow him and Kris covers his eyes with a hand. Then he ducks back into the room and comes back out with Allison trailing after him. He's also carrying the rolled up pizza menu and he shrugs when Adam arches an eyebrow.

Kris lands easily on Adam's shoulder, Allison pounces on Kris' back and Adam has to work really hard to not burst out laughing at Cook's slack-jawed stare. "Kris, you know Cook, right?"

"Hey, good to meet you," Kris waves, trying to balance Allison and hold out his hand at the same time. "I'm Kris Allen."

"Kris? Adam's boyfriend Kris?" Cook asks and Adam twitches, glowering warningly at Cook.

"Boyfriend?" Kris blinks, and Adam can't judge his expression from this close and he's going to fucking kill Cook. "Adam told you I was his boyfriend?"

"Well, he was on the phone to you like every chance he got," Cook pauses to look at Adam's murderous expression and gets a little more hesitant. "Isn't he your boyfriend?"

Adam says nothing and Kris pats his neck and changes the subject. "Anyway, you've met my squire, Archie," Archie nods and Kris points a thumb over his shoulder. "My Wytch, Allison Irehata."

"Nice to meetcha," Allison says and waves. "We're thinking pizza, you want in?"

"You just had like three pizzas," Adam points out, a little resentfully. Fairy metabolisms are just so not fair. Then he remembers that Kris hasn't eaten properly for the last week because Adam hasn't been around to order food and feels like a jerk.

"You're a witch?" Cook says, gaping a little at Allison in her flamboyant colors and fierce red hair.

"Yup," she beams at him and Cook looks non-plussed. Adam takes the menu Kris is holding out.

"Pepperoni okay?"

They wind up in the kitchen, clustered around the counter and Cook is still openly fascinated by the three fairies and he's asking a load of questions. Adam feels like he should be paying attention but he's grumpy and snappish. Kris stays on his shoulder until the pizza arrives. Adam hangs around long enough to grab a slice or two before pleading exhaustion and going up to grab a shower.

He spends too long in the shower, just staring at his hands flat on the wall and working really fucking hard not to cry. Allison and Archie haven't come out and said it but Kris is a Crown Prince and if Archie and Allison are any indication, his people love him to bits and Kris can go home. And Adam's an absolute, rotten asshole because he wishes that they hadn't saved the other two. He'd have fucking stayed home and practiced all night if that meant Kris wasn't going to leave.

It's really, really amazing how fast his day's gone to shit and Adam can't remember how it felt to be so full of hope and confidence that everything was going to be beautiful and wonderful and right.

He has to get out eventually, hair dripping and skin wrinkled and he dries off and pulls on boxers before scrubbing savagely at his hair and stomping out into the bedroom. Kris is waiting for him, hands tangled together in his lap and chewing on his lip. Adam looks around but there's no sign of the other two (or Cook, which is a relief).

"Hey," Kris says cautiously, looking up.

"Hey," Adam tosses the towel aside and finger-combs his hair. It's going to be wild tomorrow. "Just the two of us?"

It's meant to be a joke but Kris bites his lip and his eyes skitter away before he takes a deep breath and looks back up at Adam. "Yeah. They're staying in Anoop's room tonight. Cook found some spare sheets. I-uh, I asked them to give us some privacy."

"Not worrying or anything," Adam's skin is prickling, uncomfortable and his stomach is squeezing.

"I-we need to talk," Kris says, looking down at his hands, then back up. "Before Allison goes back to tell my family."

"About what?" Adam winces at his own sharp tone but he's only barely holding things together and now Kris expects him to _talk_ about it?

"About what's going to happen when my family know I'm alive," Kris says.

"What's to talk about?" Adam turns to grab up a hairbrush and sits at the dresser to try and straighten out his hair. He really, really needs something that he can fix right now. "You're going back to your family and your castle and your-your _Katy_. I'm going to be a rock star. Nothing to talk about."

"But-" Kris says hesitantly and Adam shakes his head viciously.

"No, we are _not_ talking about this."

"Adam-"

"Kris, I swear to god, if you don't stop, _I_ 'm going to sleep in Anoop's room."

"I-" Adam glares at Kris' reflection and Kris' shoulders drop, wings sagging on to the plain white bedspread in a golden splash. "Okay, no talking about it. I get it, I get it. I promise, okay?"

"Good," Adam says and turns his attention back to fixing his hair, trying to ignore the reflected image of Kris huddled miserably on the bed. There's a long, uncomfortable silence, with the swish of Adam's brush through his hair the only sound. Adam draws it out as long as he can but even flat-ironing every hair individually doesn't take forever.

When Adam stands up, Kris is rubbing at his eyes. He tips his head up to meet Adam's eyes. "I'm not going to make you talk-"

"Like you could," Adam scoffs automatically and there's a glint in Kris' eyes that suggest he might not wanna put that to the test.

"-but I want to ask you, ...I want..." Kris squares his shoulders and looks up. "I want-"

Before Adam can ask what the hell Kris is talking about, Kris shakes his head. "No, you said no talking, so I'm not asking, okay?"

"Ok-ay," Adam parrots back, bewilderment drowning out the irritable misery for a second. Kris closes his eyes and the dim, ever-present glow around him gets brighter and bigger and there's a soft _whoosh_ of air and Kris-

Adam jerks back a step because Kris is still sitting on the bed, but it's sagging under him. His wings, still loose and drooping, spill off the bed and he's...he's _huge_.

Not, like, huge-huge but he's something like ten times his normal size and the whirring gears in Adam's brain lock and he's staring. Kris stands up, a little unsteady and his wings flare out a little to catch his balance. His clothes have scaled up with him, more or less, popping at the seams and his shirt buttons are probably lost forever. He's still smaller than Adam, like six inches or something and Adam's stuck, frozen in the rattling loop of ' _holy shit_ ' and ' _Fuck me_ '.

He's always known that Kris was gorgeous - that isn't a surprise but there's a difference between Kris' adorable when he fitted into Adam's pocket and the clean, perfect lines of his face when he fits into Adam's arms. Kris kisses him, eyes wide and determined and Adam responds automatically; hot boy kissing him is an automatic trigger. But Kris isn't like the pretty, fucked-up twinks; he's sweet and clumsy and so open that Adam's toppling, falling and then it's literal falling and Kris jerks underneath him, breaking the kiss and they're sprawled out on the bed.

Kris is panting, lips already pink and slick and fuck, that's hot. His wings are fanned out under him and Adam's hand runs along the silk-soft surface. It's smooth, warm and soft as the worn plaid of Kris' favorite shirts. Adam wants to feel Kris' skin and he's clumsy, fumbling but he still gets Kris naked and pinned to the bed in under thirty seconds. Adam props himself up on his elbow and just stares.

Kris writhes and tries to pull Adam down, wings spreading flat against the sheets and quivering. He's gorgeous, ripped and solid and beautiful. Adam spreads his hand against the wing and it's hot, warmer than Kris' skin and quivering in time with Kris' racing pulse. Kris rocks up, hip-to-hip and whining. His head tips back to bare his neck and Adam leans in to close his lips over the thrumming pulse just above his collarbone.

Kris is crazy responsive, quicksilver hot and needy under Adam's hands and against his skin and Adam's sucked in like an undertow, brain shorted out and he's already addicted to the way Kris' breath catches when Adam touches him, the rising whine when Adam kisses him. The smooth lines, the pink shapes against golden skin.

He gets a hand around Kris' dick, curved and hard. Kris goes still, eyes huge and dark as Adam runs his fingers up along the vein on the underside. He's softer, skin looser than Adam expects and Adam rubs his thumb around the head and the extra skin. Kris jitters and moans something Southern in the key of 'please'. Adam licks his lips and swallows at Kris' artless sprawl, hips twitching up into Adam's hand, breathless begging and Adam has to get a hand around the base of his own dick and squeeze.

"Please," Kris chants, hands frantic against Adam's back, his arms, his hair. "Please, Adam, please."

Adam fumbles in the bedside drawer, fingers closing around the twisted tube and thank god for force of habit and Brad for insisting that there should always, always be lube. Especially in the _Idol_ mansion. Adam's senses ratchet up a hundred percent as he coaxes Kris' legs open. He's hyper sensitive to every hitch, every catch in Kris' breathing and there's something crazy-intense about the way their eyes lock and Kris is so stupidly, wonderfully _open_ , everything showing through those huge brown eyes.

Kris is hot, too hot to be real and so tight that Adam thinks it's going to be game over before they even get started and time blurs together in a churn of sensation and Kris' panting breath, the unexpected strength in his arms and the legs that bracket Adam's hips.

Adam's brain stops functioning altogether when he slides into Kris, there's just need and want and moving together like there's a live wire hooking them together. Adam actually blacks out when he comes and they lie there, panting and tangled and sweating and Kris' wings are fanning the air lazily. Adam's crushing him into the mattress and he should be moving but he can't make himself breathe at the thought of letting go.

He's half-asleep, breathing easy and his pulse slowing to a normal tempo, when Kris leans up, lips brushing the curve of Adam's ear. "I want to see you win. I'm not going until after you win."

Adam should say something but he's fucked his brains out and he can be coherent, he just needs to sleep first.

Adam wakes late in the morning when Janice, one of the PAs, bangs on his door. "Forty minutes, Adam!"

Adam flails and falls out of bed and he's tacky and gross and he stumbles into the shower and only really wakes up about halfway through conditioning his hair. His first conscious thought is _Holy fucking shit!_ , then _Kris_ and he races through his shower and comes hurrying out in a towel. The bed is rumpled and still-warm and the covers are all bundled up into a cocoon.

Janice barges in before Adam can unwind what had better be a Kris-cocoon and he has to get dressed. He kinda hates her for that, even if she did get him up in time to do his hair. He does hate her when she stays to make sure he's fixing his hair and getting dressed. Getting dressed with an audience isn't a new experience but Janice is a little too attentive and it really freaks him out.

She leaves at last, warning him that the car'll be in front in five minutes and if his butt is not in the backseat, he'll have to jog to the studio. The humidity, she adds, is ridiculously high today. Adam paints on a sickly-sweet smile and promises to be there.

Kris is still in bed, deeply asleep and Adam's jeans somehow shrink like three sizes when he pulls back the covers to see Kris, still super-sized, sprawled bonelessly out across the rumpled sheets. His neck is dotted with red marks starting to shade into pale washed-out blue bruises. His wings fan out, covering his waist and down past mid-thigh in a coy tease that makes Kris look like some sort of cheeky gay pin-up.

Adam stares for a minute, maybe two. Three at the outside. Then he tries to wake Kris up and wow, Adam is so used to Kris being the morning person that he's forgotten that Kris is a bitch to wake.

Kris finally cracks one weary brown eye and Adam's breath snags in his throat at the subdued misery behind the well-fucked haze. He bites his lip, tasting the tacky lip gloss that Brad bought him as a joke during their shopping trips for Burning Man. "Hey, how're you doing?"

Kris huffs and his eye half-closes again. "I'm gonna sleep on my belly for a bit but I'm good. Seriously, it was worth it," he adds when Adam tenses up guiltily. "It was...it was incredible. Really. I'm...glad we did, uh, _it_."

Adam strokes a hand down the curve of Kris' spine. "How did I not know you could do this?"

"I couldn't do it by myself. It's, kinda tricky and uh," Kris arches, pressing up into Adam's hand. "I, it only lasts about twelve hours and it takes, like, a stupid amount of power so I needed Allison to help me."

"Huh," Adam rubs his thumb across the bump of Kris' spine, right between his wings which makes them quiver. "So, listen, after...after the show. You and me. We need to-to talk. Okay?"

Kris' eyes slit open again and his voice is wary. "Thought you didn't want to talk."

"I didn't," Adam admits, spreading his fingers so he can stroke Kris' wings. "But, sometimes? I'm an idiot. We do need to talk and I'd hang around but-"

"-But the car just arrived and you gotta go," Kris finishes.

"Yeah," Adam sighs, hesitates for a second, then leans in to press their lips together. It's a proper first kiss, shy and chaste and a little clumsy. "But tonight, you'll wait until we talk, right?"

"If it means that much to you," Kris agrees easily, back tensing under Adam's hand. "I guess it shouldn't be a problem."

"Awesome," Adam says honestly and brushes a kiss to the back of Kris' neck. "I'll see you tonight then, all right?"

"Yeah," Kris promises, burrowing back into his pillow and Adam draws the covers up over him and has to run downstairs to make it before the car leaves without him. He's jittery, fingers tapping out a staccato beat and for the first time ever, it isn't the prospect of getting voted off that's making him nervous.

The last show is incredible. It takes four hours just to get his makeup and wardrobe right and there's a lot of chatter about the stage set-up and Adam might hyper-ventilate a little when KISS arrive and Gene Simmons comes to talk about how the performance is going to work. Adam gets a few minutes of 'privacy' when he and Cook are stuck in one of the green rooms and he takes out his phone and texts Kris.

Something beeps behind the ugly plastic fushia in the corner and Adam and Cook turn to look. Archie tumbles out from behind the plant and Allison tries to grab him and they both hit the ground. Kris pokes his head out from behind the stems, looking sheepish. He's back to his normal size and Adam should probably be ashamed that he wishes Kris was still big enough to drag into the supply closet.

"Um, hey?" Kris is grinning, head ducked down as Archie and Allison squabble over who gave them away.

"Hey," Adam breathes, holding out his arms and Kris skims over to catch his new coat's lapel and cling on. The gold glitter doesn't really work with the bronze and brown leather but Adam can totally carry it off. Even a fashion disaster in the making is utterly and totally not worth his time compared to having Kris here and laughing and happy to see him. Adam cuddles him shamelessly.

"We wanted to see the show for real," Allison pipes up as Cook peers down at them both with a bemused expression. Adam remembers that expression, better known as the 'huh, not high/crazy/nuts.' expression which he wore for a like a week after he first met Kris.

"We?" Adam says and Kris twitches a little.

"I wanted," he admits and Adam feels a warm glow that makes him want to dance and sing and and maybe, take over the world or at least make it a far more glamorous, awesome place.

Cook offers to keep an eye on them when Adam's performing and he's as good as his word. Adam rocks _Rock'n'Roll All Night_ and even KISS are panting by the end of it as the crowd goes insane. Cook is standing just off-stage, just shadowed enough that Adam can see the glow where the three fairies must be hiding. Adam stumbles off stage and Kris zips across to hug him and Adam laughs, giddy with relief.

Cook's set and the duet skip past on fast forward and the next clear moment Adam has is standing in the middle of the searing lights and Ryan is reminding everyone that "lines are now open!" Adam breathes deep and smiles for the cameras and waits for the voice in his earpiece to say they're done. He hugs Cook because seriously, this much positive energy needs an outlet and Cook hugs him back, totally unself-conscious and says "Good luck, man," like he means it. Adam thinks he actually might and yeah, it's an awesome night.

He leads the way back to the dressing rooms, riding the greatest high of his life and even the looming, awkward conversation with Kris doesn't seem so scary. Adam is totally convinced that he can do this and Kris - Kris who snuck half-way across the city in the middle of the day with two other fairies just to hear Adam performing live - just has to listen. He's been listening to Adam since Adam was fat, sixteen and on a first name basis with Mr Tumnus.

Adam even has a careful, reasoned speech prepared. He gets flagged down by E!'s roving reporter and Cook leans in just to enough to whisper that he'll take Archie and Allison to raid the vending machines. Adam flashes him a genuine smile and beams at the reporter who doesn't actually have anything new to ask. Five minutes later and Adam is hurrying back to the dressing rooms.

He opens the door, speech already prepared and the stench staggers him backwards. It reeks like a sewage pipe and the light is all wrong and the air feels like rancid soup. There's an undulating sickly gray mass and Adam coughs, clutching the door handle to keep himself steady.

"Adam!" Kris' voice, too high-pitched and afraid and Adam lunges forward automatically. Kris is trapped, knotted up in gray limbs and he's fighting, Adam can see him fighting but it isn't working and before Adam can force his way through, the gray mass sinks through the floor, taking Kris with it.

"KRIS!" Allison comes hurtling up the corridor with Archie right behind her and Cook running after them both. "OH MY GOD, KRIS!!"

Adam is wheezing and choking and thank god all the production staff are busy and the dressing room is private because Allison's lit up like a firework and Archie is babbling worriedly. Adam sways a little and Cook gets under his arm and god bless tiny co-stars because Cook is the perfect size to act as a crutch.

"What? What happened?" Cook asks, anchoring Adam in place and directing the question to everyone.

"Goblins, oh my gosh," Archie says, wringing his hands. "Oh my gosh, oh my gosh."

Allison is drawing uneven circles around where Kris and the Goblins (seriously? Adam just cannot handle this shit) disappeared. "Oh god, oh god, this is bad. This is really, really bad."

Adam tries to speak but his voice isn't working right and he's on the verge of a fairly major freakout. Cook looks at him then at the freaking out fairies. "Okay, again, the fuck just happened here?"

"The Goblins have the Prince," Archie says, landing heavily on the carpet. "Oh my heck, what are we going to do?"

"I can't follow them, I can't get a trace on him!" Allison wails, dropping to stand where Kris had been. Her wings hang down and she looks tiny, unbearably young and totally lost. "He's gone, I can't find him!"

"Fuck that," Adam manages, still coughing a little and pushing away from Cook. "There has to be something you can do, or someone who can help?"

Allison looks like she's about to start crying and Adam just wants to shake her like a rattle. "Allison!"

"Uh-maybe? Maybe Ka-" Allison shakes her head and spreads her wings. "Be right back."

She disappears in a pop and Adam literally cannot think of any swear-words appropriate to the seething hell-pit of rage that is his mood right now. Cook backs up a little. Adam shakes his head. "There has to be _something_ we can do!"

Archie, as the only target left, flinches away from Adam's fury and Cook snatches him up and out of the way before Adam can stamp on him. Not that Adam actually would. Probably. Adam stomps across the room and wishes there was something he could throw or break but the dressing room is diva proof. Cook is looking worried and Archie is still babbling and Adam kicks the battered old couch hard enough to break one of the wooden legs.

The couch sinks sideways as the leg clatters across the floor. Adam isn't sure what else he can trash but before it becomes a pressing issue, there's another pop and Allison reappears, arm-in-arm with another tiny blond fairy. The new arrival looks even daintier than Allison, aside from the five inch sword slung across her back. She looks around, eyes lingering on Adam then focuses on Cook and the suddenly-mute fairy cowering in his hands. "Squire Archuleta!"

"Yes, Sir Katy?" Archie wavers.

"The Prince's Wytch tells me that he was here, is that true?"

"Yes, Sir Katy," Archie says. "He was right here in this room until, um..."

"Until?" Katy - Adam can't really see her as a 'Sir', she's too pretty and delicate - has an impressively bland tone. She reminds Adam of one of his vocal coaches back when he first started in LA; an older woman, like a third his size, who could stop a battalion of Marines in their tracks with one sharp comment.

"TheGoblinsattacked," Archie mumbles.

"Where were you when the Prince- when _Kris_ was attacked!?" Katy snaps, hands on hips and Adam backs up two whole steps before he realizes he's done so. "What was so important that you left him unguarded?"

"Uh," Archie flounders, "Um, there was uh, Rocky Road?"

"Rocky what?"

"It's this really awesome ice-cream," Allison pipes up, trying to be helpful. "They had one tub left in the machine and we had to jiggle it a lot."

" _Ice-cream_?!" Katy's voice goes very quiet, razor-sharp. "You _lost_ the Crown Prince to _Goblins_ because you wanted _ice-cream_?!"

"Um! Uh, I-!" Archie is pressed right back against Cook's chest. Cook, who isn't stupid, is edging backwards, towards the door. "I- no! It wasn't like that!"

"Oh?"

"Prince Kris said we were to go!" Archie bursts out. "He wanted-...um."

He looks at Adam who has to lock his knees to keep from backing right up to the wall when Katy turns those sharp dark eyes on him. Archie bunches his wings up tight against his side and hangs his head.

"He wanted to talk to Adam," Allison says, chin up and only the shivering sparkling light rippling along her wings betraying her calm facade. "He said that it was important and it wasn't our place to stay."

"You are the Prince's servants," Katy says pointedly. "Your place is where you can best protect him, isn't it?"

"Not-" Allison looks up at Adam and straightens up. "Not when the Prince wants to talk to his Beloved."

Katy's eyebrow shoots up and Adam can feel his own eyes narrowing a little. There's an unusually emphatic inflection on 'Beloved' which catches his attention. The choice of words makes him feel embarrassed and defensive and his cheeks are heating up. Katy turns to give him a more thorough once-over and Adam has to work to keep his shoulders back and straight. She's scowling a little, like Granma Lambert when someone says something she thinks is crude.

 _Fuck you, princess,_ Adam thinks defiantly. 'Beloved' isn't quite how he'd have phrased the tangled knot of love and friendship and smoking hot sex that is what Kris is to him but it's close enough that Adam's comfortable with it. He's not ashamed of that and fuck this pint-size Barbie doll. If she has a problem with this, that's her damage.

"Him?" Katy says to Allison in a skeptical tone of voice.

"Him," Allison and Archie nod. Cook is looking at Adam with open curiosity but, to Adam's eternal gratitude, he doesn't ask. Answering to his new in-laws, while not something Adam would volunteer to endure, is to be expected. This new dimension to Adam's relationship with Kris is too new, too private and Adam isn't ready to share the details yet. He's still got bubbly happy feelings low in his gut whenever he thinks about last night, even with the nauseous mix of fear and fury.

"Hmm," Katy spreads her wings, a shaded tapestry of sky blue; midnight shading out to the rich blue of a clear sky on a perfect summer day. Her glow is a warm blue as she flies up to look straight into his eyes. "Huh."

She sounds a little surprised and Adam tilts his head questioningly. Katy folds her arms and looks at him with narrowed eyes. "You're right. He is."

"Okay," Adam says, hands curling into fists. "As much fun as this mysterious bullshit is? What are we going to do about finding Kris? Before the Goblins do whatever horrible things Goblins do to gorgeous Fairy Princes."

Katy looks at him for a second longer then nods and backwings a little. "You're right. We'll start looking for clues," she waves her hand dismissively. "Go, ...get some ice-cream or something. You're just getting in the way here."

Adam tries to protest but Katy is like a mountain of steel will in a thimble-sized package. He and Cook get sent out of the room, with Archie (who looks a little lost whenever Cook lets him go) along to make sure that they don't hang around. Adam is still seething mad, kicking one of the other doors as he storms down the corridor. It's late enough that there shouldn't be anyone else back here but the world hasn't finished fucking up Adam's life for today because there's a muffled call from inside the room. Then the door opens and Simon looks out.

"Adam?" Simon frowns at him, the room seeming a little darker than it should behind him. "Did you need somethi-?"

Archie's squeak cuts Simon off and before Adam can even think of trying to like, step between Simon and Cook, Simon looks right at him. Adam opens his mouth to explain, then stops. He hasn't really had time to think about how to explain that fairies exist since the first time this happened, all of sixteen hours later. Simon's expression changes and Adam thinks suddenly, that maybe Simon doesn't need an explanation.

"What, exactly, are you doing with a fairy noble, David?"

"Uh," Cook looks at Adam who shrugs. "Ice-cream?"

Simon looks at them both, expression long-suffering. "Do you even know what you've got there?"

"He said he was a squire," Cook volunteers when it becomes apparent that Archie isn't able to answer.

"A Squire?" Simon looks like Cook just announced he would be singing Paris Hilton for his performance.

"Hey, Adam started it," Cook objects, almost reflexively.

"Oh really?" Simon sounds less than convinced and it's not really a surprise when Cook jerks his head towards Adam.

"He brought a fairy Prince from home."

Simon turns sharply to look at Adam and it's a searching look, the sort of focused intensity that Adam associates with the really tough songs. It's not something Simon does, as a rule. Normally he's snarky and vicious but the pure focus is something that transcends his harshest verdicts. "Oh, you have _got_ to be kidding me."

"What?" Adam snaps defensively.

"You found him, didn't you? The lost Prince of the Faerie." Simon shakes his head, looking thoughtful. "Is he here?"

"He was," Adam says reluctantly. "Just a few minutes ago but-"

"-But they didn't roll out enough welcome mat for two?" Simon suggests cynically.

Adam shakes his head. "There were Goblins."

"WHAT?!"

"Prince Allen was attacked," Archie answers, straightening up. "And he fought well but there were so many of them..."

"Prince Allen was here, in this building and you _lost_ him?" Archie eeps and hides in Cook's breast pocket, peeking out over the top with wide, frightened eyes. Simon drags his hand over his face. "Give me strength... What are you doing to retrieve him?"

"Sir Katy and the Prince's Wytch are looking for clues," Archie says. "They, uh, they didn't need our help, sir."

"Oh, for the love of-" Simon rubbed his face again. "PAULA!"

A weird tingling feeling makes the skin between Adam's shoulder blades prickle and he sees Cook's shoulders jerk reflexively. The light in the corridor dims then brightens a little but it's still gloomier than it had been before when Paula's voice comes from behind them. "You bellowed, Simon?"

"You're not going to believe this," Simon says, arms folded and looking at them with his trademark disapproval in every line. He explains the whole thing to Paula, in contemptuously neat sentences. "We're going to need to talk to the Protector. Try not to cause a diplomatic incident this time, okay?"

"It's not my fault that they're arrogant, narcissistic assholes," Paula says reasonably and Cook bumps Adam's shoulder and mouths 'what the fuck' at him. Adam shrugs with one shoulder.

"Come on, then," Simon says wearily and leads the way back to the dressing room. He throws the door open and Katy and Allison spin to face them. There's another long, awkward round of explanations. Adam stays back and drums his fingers against his leg, trying not to feel time slipping away. Katy seems fairly skeptical, Allison and Archie are staring wide-eyed at Simon and Paula, who is being more supercilious than Simon.

"Hey!" He interrupts at last. "Look, I'm sure your own private soap opera is like epic and shit but can we please stay focused here? Simon, you and Paula really think you can help us find Kris?"

Simon, eyebrow raised, nods. Paula is studying Adam with a smile lurking at the corner of her lips.

"Then what is the problem?" Adam appeals to the room in general. "Is there anything in this conversation that needs to be discussed _before_ we go to save Kris from the Goblins?"

Everyone shakes their heads, even Cook who is smirking a little and winks at Adam when Adam sighs gustily.

"Then can we please just get this rescue mission off the ground already?"

Katy nods, something unreadable in her eyes before she turns to Simon. "He's right. If your Wytch can find the Prince, I respectfully ask that she assist in the search."

"We are happy to help," Simon says before Paula can open her mouth. "The safety of the Prince is of foremost importance, and we will do everything in our power to ensure his safe return."

"Thank you," Katy says seriously, reaching back to resettle her sword. "Then let us not tarry here."

"What about the mortals?" Paula asks, leaning back against the wall and looking at Adam and Cook.

"I'm coming." Adam says immediately. "No _way_ you are leaving me behind."

"He can't hope to keep up," Simon says slowly. "I cannot be expected to unseat one of my vassals to provide him with a mount he can't use."

"He might be able to ride," Allison objects.

"The boy can sing," Simon concedes, shrugging at Adam. "But American Idols don't have to be able to ride. This is the human world."

"That's not a problem," Katy interrupts when it looks like Allison's going to object.

"Why not?" Simon demands.

" _He_ ," Katy crinkles up her nose and lifts her shoulders. "Is the Prince's Beloved. If your Wytch is willing to assist, we can-"

"The Tinkerbell transformation!" Paula claps her hands in child-like delight and Adam looks back and forth between them.

"The what?" Adam could not have heard that right.

"Tinkerbell transformation," Allison says distractedly. "This is so awesome, I've heard of it but like, no one has cast it in something like a hundred and...six years? I'm not sure how human years translate exactly but yeah, this is like epic magic."

Adam is not really reassured by this but there is time to argue because Katy and Paula have their heads together and are talking in low serious tones and Adam's having flashbacks to auditions past. Allison flies over and they start gesticulating and Adam looks helplessly at Simon when Paula starts honest-to-God cackling.

"What about Cook?" Simon interrupts.

"What about me?" Cook says warily as everyone turns to look at him. "What?"

"It's not like he's got a camera or anything," Paula says dismissively. "A memory charm and bottle of beer, problem solved."

"....I'm like, ninety percent certain that was insulting," Cook says, backing up a little. "Also? Why do you need to do anything to me? Can't you just," he waves a hand at Adam. "do whatever you're doing to Adam?"

Adam is seriously expecting to hear the Twilight Zone music swelling up in the background as Cook proceeds to argue his way onto the Kris-rescue-party, winning over Simon, Paula and _Katy_ which is a level of cunning Adam honestly didn't think he had it in him. Archie is pink and excited and kinda adorable in a way that would be so much more distracting if _Kris wasn't in horrible mortal danger_.

"Can we please get this show on the road already?" Adam appeals to the room. "Before Kris..."

Katy nods and pretty much takes over. She's terrifying and scarily good at bossing people around and in no time at all, the girls are chanting together in some language that Adam doesn't understand but that sounds familiar. Then there's a growing crackling energy in the air, so strong that Adam's half expecting to see lightning crackling through the air.

Hair on the back of his arms and up along the back of his neck start to rise. Adam's quivering, like he's straining to hold the glory note at the end of a ballad. There's this rush like champagne bubbles in his bloodstream and Adam's vision skews and fills with sparkling pinpoints of light and the room spins like a roller-coaster. Adam stumbles sideways and loses his footing.

When he manages to steady himself, the world's different. Epic level different; he looks down and the carpet looks like braided grass, wispy and (ewww) kinda filthy. Adam so totally gets why Kris is such a neat freak in that moment. Cook was standing behind him and Adam worried that he wouldn't be able to see him but his eyesight doesn't seem to be that different, sharper if anything.

He can see Cook, twisting to look at the dark-emerald wings curving up and out from the back of his shirt. There's messy abstract shapes like guitars and mangled musical notation in a dark, understated gold which actually really, really suits him. He's glowing; pale green with hints of glitter in his hair and skin. He looks ...sparkly and Adam would pawn a kidney for a camera.

Then he looks down. He's still wearing the black jacket and the leather pants that make his ass look fabulous and the big kick-ass boots. They look pretty much the same but his skin looks like he plunged both hands into a barrel of silver body glitter and his actual skin looks a little smoother and paler but that's just the silvery glow and Adam lifts his head, hyper-conscious of the weight pulling down between his shoulder-blades. Adam rolls his shoulder, feeling the pull of new, strangle muscles and the prickly pins and needles feeling that his brain doesn't seem to know how to place.

The light dims a little and Adam looks back and up and his jaw drops a little. His wings - _his_ wings - fan out, sharp-edged with hooked corners and a little jagged almost at the tips. Silver lines, too fine to really break up the slick black, trace out musical notes, shapes and signs from a hundred moments of Adam's life. The wings look like a fairy-tale painting done by a hard rock cover artist and they are fucking _fierce_.

Adam feels a hundred times more bad-ass just by association and Allison lands in front of him, neck craned back to stare with wide eyes. "Oh, _wow_."

Katy stays in the air but Adam can see her more clearly from this size; the honey blonde hair and the tired lines around her eyes and mouth. "Wytch, Squire. Teach them to fly. Lord Simon, we need to discuss our plan of attack"

Simon looks really fucking weird from Adam's new angle but there's something more; he's shadowy, like he's been added by a lazy CG artist or something. He nods to Katy and they take over the couch and start talking strategy. Adam tries to pay attention to that, and to how to fly. At least, until he actually _tries_ to fly.

"Flap your wings a little," Allison demonstrates and Adam watches as her glow (and seriously Adam is going to have to think of a better name for it than that) get brighter. "Then, once you've got enough lift, just use your wings to steer, or go faster."

"Okay, sounds fairly straightforward," Adam flexes his wings and tries to get a feel for how the fuck he can make them actually beat. He kinda gets an idea for how to fan them out and fold them back but the whole back and forth thing is a lot more complicated than it should be. Adam wobbles and plants himself face first in the carpet the first few times his wings actually beat.

"Dude, you suck at this," Cook is laughing his ass off from the safety of about a foot over Adam's head. Archie is hovering above him, nudging Cook a little to steer him. His jerky flight would be totally ridiculous if he _wasn't doing better than Adam_. Adam gets back up and picks lint off his clothes and out of his hair and takes a minute to breathe and focus.

"Try not to think about it so hard," Allison says, unhelpfully. Adam rolls his shoulders and his wings flap; a little tentative at first but beating strongly as Adam works out how to separate the way his new wing muscles move from the way his own shoulders work. "Okay, okay, that's good. You should probably stop now though. Try flying."

Adam jumps a little and it feels a little like pushing off from the side of swimming pool; he's lighter than he should be. Adam flaps his wings again. There's a blur of color and he bounces off Simon's chest. Simon doubles over and wheezes and Adam tries to steady himself. He beats his wings again.

This time, he hits the ceiling. It doesn't hurt as much as Adam expects it to, given the speed he was moving at. Cook falls out of the air because he's laughing so hard but Archie, who is cute and deserves so much better than Cook, grabs a cushion and drags it under him. Adam hits hard enough to fold the cushion over like an Adam calzone.

Allison is laughing her ass off at him when Adam finally gets free of the cushion. Paula is smirking, just short of actually laughing. Katy and Simon are looking serious. Simon turns to Katy and deadpans "This could take a while."

"We don't have a while to spend on teaching him to _fly_." Katy says sharply.

"Then he can ride with me," which is a little more gangsta than Adam was expecting from Simon. "Wytch, cast your spells before we lose the Prince's trail altogether."

"As you command, Lord," Paula's accent changes and her voice gets deeper. When Adam looks around, she's wreathed in shadows deep enough to completely hide what she was wearing. It's like a black cloak with a hood hiding her face.

 _Twilight Zone music,_ Adam thinks. _Would totally apply right now._

Simon laughs, throwing his head back and Adam's eyes refuse to focus for second and when he can make Simon out again? it's not Simon any more. It's more like a caricature; if caricatures were horror movie posters. He's like four feet taller (which translates to a couple of miles in Adam's brand-new perspective) and the shadows have spread out to cover half the room. There's fresh air, not recycled through the air-con, that smells of leaves and earth and Simon's wearing battered armor, scarred and dull gray metal with bronze plates.

Adam stares at the two massive horns (or antlers maybe?) that curve out of the top of his helmet. He bites his lip and tries really, really hard not laugh. It is a serious effort of will not to make a 'horny' joke despite the very real awe at Simon's very real bad-assery. "The fuck-?"

"Horned Lord of the Wyld Hunt," Simon says and his voice vibrates up from the floor. "Comes with the territory, so to speak."

"Wyld Hunt?" Cook is a prudent distance behind Adam.

"We don't have _time_ to discuss Court politics." Katy interrupts.

"Agreed," Simon holds out a gauntleted hand, complete with talons and Adam looks at him.

"I-you know, I think I've got this flying thing worked out."

How Simon manages to raise an eyebrow like that while wearing a helmet is beyond Adam's ability to understand.

"Fine," Adam drifts a little closer and lets Simon snag him as the shadows rise up around them.

Adam's first experience of Fairyland is like an acid trip on fast forward. Simon calls up the Hunt and they pour through forests and over ruined castles, riding under a sky full of multi-colored stars. The air is sweet and crisp and Adam is clinging to the mane of Simon's horse as they fly through Fairyland. Archie and Cook are clinging on beside him, chattering and laughing. Katy and Allison are keeping pace alongside and it's like an action shot.

It's actually kinda awesome but Adam's brain stutters when he thinks about how he's going to describe it to Kris. His stomach curls in on itself and he has to blink a lot to keep the tears back. It stops being awesome after that.

The reek breaks through his bleak thoughts; it's faint but unmistakable. It's the horrible stench from before and Archie's hushed "Goblins," isn't a surprise. The Hunt picks up speed and Adam looks down at Archie.

"So, what do the Goblins want with Kris anyway?" Cook asks.

"Breeding material," Archie says with a shudder.

"They're going to _rape_ him?!"

"No," Archie says quietly. "Worse. Goblins are..."

"Abominations." Simon's rumble finishes.

"They're not really living things," Archie explains more and Adam actually gags and Cook throws up. Goblins turn out not to be the Harry Potter bankers but left over weapons from the Cold War between Seelie and UnSeelie Courts. They don't create anything; they were specifically created that way. Simon explains it was intended to be a built in limitation by the UnSeelie weavers who created them but, like everything else, there was a loophole.

"They were intended to be weapons in a war that neither side could hope to win," Simon says. "The weavers made them to be so terrible that even the thought of facing them would force a surrender. They feed on the living to spawn and their victims remain alive, aware, until the last possible moment."

Adam doesn't - can't - think about that or he is going to throw up and cry for the rest of his life. The stink is stronger as Archie talks about peace accords and the many attempts to exterminate the Goblins and a lot of other stuff that Adam is in no way capable of processing.

The stink of Goblin is getting thicker and Adam has to breathe through his mouth. He's stopped listening to Archie and Simon. He's totally focused on rescuing Kris. They're going to be in time. They have to be. Adam tightens his grip on the horse's mane.

The sky is getting darker overhead, no more stars and moons and the rich midnight blue is rapidly bleeding into oily black. The trees are sparse and mostly dead; one of the other riders crashes through a rotten trunk. Simon spits a curse at him/her. The horses' hooves clatter across the hard ground. Behind him, Adam can hear weapons being drawn. The Hunt is running flat out.

Ahead a castle, ruined and broken, perches on the top of a hill. There's a red gleam through the ruin of gatehouse. Adam fans out his wings and they beat once or twice before he gets them back under control.

The horse stretches out its neck. Simon leans forward. He raises an arm and the Hunt roars like an army of dragons. The stench is so thick, Adam can actually see muddy mist blanketing the bottom of the hill. Cook says something low and heartfelt and probably profane. Archie is muttering but his glow brightens. Adam beats his wings deliberately: once, twice, three times. Katy lights up like a shooting star as the Hunt crashes into the ruins of the Gate. Adam hears Paula's shriek of laughter. Then, all hell breaks loose.

Adam throws himself off Simon's horse. There's Goblins everywhere, armies of rotten gray blobs, seething like a pit of snakes. Adam dives past one of them, wings clumsily angling to dodge. Cook is shouting. There's the clash of metal on metal. The savage cries of the Hunt rise above the shrill wailing from the Goblins.

Adam doesn't pay any attention to the Goblins. He can hear, under the chaos, a soft thread of sound. _Kris_.

He doesn't remember how he made it across the courtyard. Katy gets him past the Goblins guarding the door to the keep and follows him as Adam hurtles madly up the stairs. He's following the music. It's a KISS song. _Rock & Roll All night_. Adam's KISS song. Halfway up and the song starts to falter. Katy cries out.

Adam opens his mouth and sings.

It's not like singing for _Idol_ or a musical. It's more. It's opening his heart and shining a light on it. It's a crowd hanging on every note. It's music. It's Adam's soul and he puts everything he is into that song. The clumsy kid, the pimply teenager, the barista, the club animal, the dutiful son, the prima donna, the son/brother/lover/friend and most of all, weaving them together, Kris' best friend. Kris' Beloved.

The last door blows in. Katy again, Adam thinks and there _is_ Kris. Chained to the floor, surrounded by a soupy gray mass, pale and weak but _Kris_.

"And you drive us wild, we'll drive you crazy/You keep on shoutin', you keep on shoutin'" Adam sings and the mass shudders, splits and Katy is singing and Kris' voice fails as the gray mass drains into the cracks. Adam dives towards him, completely fails to brake and they both go tumbling across the floor, chains snapping and shattering.

"Kris! Kris!" Adam is pawing at him and Kris feels huge, wings limp and body slack. "KRIS!"

Katy lands beside them and Adam won't let go. Kris slumped into the curve of his arms and "He won't wake up, why won't he wake up?"

Katy shakes her head. "He's- He's-, I think, we-we were-"

" _No_." Adam clutches at Kris. "NO! Nonononononono! Kris, you bastard, you asshole, don't do this. Don't you dare! Fuck you, fuck you, _wake up_."

He hugs Kris, tight as he can and he sings. It's not his finest performance, he's too choked up and the sob that breaks out throw the timing to shit. He sings 'No Boundaries', even if it's a sucky song and he hates it. He sings because Kris likes to hear him sing. "You can go higher, you can go deeper/There are no boundaries above and beneath you/Break every rule/'Cause there's nothing between you and your dreams."

Kris breathes in, lips moving as Adam wobbles on "'Cause there's nothing" and his voice is almost inaudible. Adam smiles and cries and sings as Katy cheers and cries beside him.

Later, Simon takes him and Cook back to LA. Adam doesn't want to go but Kris, still barely conscious and bundled in cloaks and with the whole Hunt gathered protectively around him, insists. "You can't miss the results show, Adam. You have to be there to accept the trophy."

"You cannot be so fucking sure that I won," Adam manages through another wave of tears. (He is going to be blotchy for the rest of the _month_ and right now, he doesn't care.)

"'Course you won," Kris whispers as his eyes slide closed. "You're awesome."

"Well, I can't argue with _that_ ," Adam smiles and holds Kris' hand tighter. "I'm still not leaving you."

"I'm fine," Kris says and Adam snorts. "Okay, I'm _going_ to be fine. It's only for a day or two."

"I-" Adam has to clear his throat. "I'm not going back without you."

"Yes," Kris insists. "You are. But that's okay." He forces his eyes open long enough to smile up at Adam. "I'll be right behind you."

"Promise?" Adam says tearily and Kris rolls his head just enough to kiss Adam's hand.

"Promise."

Adam sleeps most of the way back and only really wakes when Paula shoves him onto his bed in the mansion. His clothes are ruined, his makeup is smeared and he looks like a KISS reject. He's also back to his old size, "still a little glittery," Paula admits "but I don't think anyone'll notice."

Adam almost hopes they do.

He sleeps for most of the day, until the PAs come crashing in and hunt him into the shower, then out into a car with Cook and back to the studio. Cook doesn't say anything to Adam about last night but he bumps Adam's shoulder on the way to makeup and jumps in when the make-up artist exclaims over his red eyes and blotchy cheeks. "Rough night, nothing you can't handle, right?"

They stand up on stage with Ryan beside them and the crowd is nervous and jittery and Adam just feels numb. He doesn't care about the stupid show or the stupid trophy. It feels unreal to be back here, like he's in the Disneyland version of the world, too brightly colored and plastic. He wants to be home, with Kris and a month of free time and a maid service to change the bed-clothes every hour. He stares at the crowd and smiles his best 'professional' smile and wishes Ryan would get to the fucking point already, god!

Then Adam wins.

His brain actually shuts down. He can hear Ryan's polished words and Cook's "Congratulations, man. You deserve this." but his brain isn't actually working. He must say something because there's a round of applause and he gets handed a microphone and the stage is emptied. He looks out into the crowd. Simon and Paula are sitting, looking tired but triumphant and they're clapping like mad. They nod and they smile and Adam lifts the microphone and sings.

He sleep-walks through the press and the jubilant phone calls and he feels like a robot ticking over. He must do okay because none of his new and growing entourage complain. There's a party and Brad texts him to say ' _cheer up emo rockstar!_ '

His mom calls him the next night, after Adam utterly fails to fall asleep. His room feels like an echo chamber and Kris' absence is a huge hole, sucking the color out of Adam's life. His mom sounds really enthusiastic and Adam tries to be upbeat. He should know better than to try to lie to his mom.

"Are you okay, hon?" She asks eventually. "You seem down in the dumps. I thought you'd be over the moon about this."

"I am," Adam says and winces at how weary he sounds. "It is awesome I just...something else happened and..."

Before he can figure out how to explain to his mom that his fairy best friend/roommate/lover isn't there and Adam's missing him fiercely without her calling the men in white coats, his mom takes a sharp breath. "Oh, sweetie, is it Kris?"

"Yeah, I-" Adam pauses. "Wait, what!? You _know_ about Kris? Since when?"

"Sweetie," his mom says patiently. "I'm not stupid and you weren't exactly ...subtle when you were sixteen. What happened?"

"He got kidnapped by Goblins and his Protector, who is seriously scary, took him home to get better. She's awesome but kinda, you know, terrifying."

"Adam, sweetheart," his mom says, sounding like she getting comfortable. "Why don't you start from the beginning and tell me all about it?"

It takes about an hour but Adam gets through everything (well, everything he's willing to admit to his mom,) and his mom tells him she loves him and that she's looking forward to having him and Kris over for dinner as soon as Adam's schedule allows. Adam hangs up feeling a little better and optimistic enough to get him through another two days of interviews.

He and Cook are due to perform live for a morning show back in LA proper and Adam is actually grateful to have Cook along. He's not up to dealing with the relentless media attention alone right now. Brad and Cassidy have promised to assemble a posse to cheer for him. Adam calls them both bitches and resolves to buy them really _awesome_ Christmas presents. They get a limo ride to the outdoor set, which is already packed with fans. Adam puts on sunglasses and braces himself before the door opens and the crowds of paparazzi shout his name.

Adam waves a little and hurries past them. There are fans screaming and he waves to them too as he gets closer to where his friends should be. He's distracted, going over his set and thinking about the interview questions ahead. He's almost to the looming line of security when he spots a familiar flash of plaid.

His reaction to plaid is starting to border on pathological but Adam cranes his neck to look all the same. He knows it can't be Kris. It doesn't stop his stupid heart from leaping into his throat. Then Adam stops dead because it _is_ Kris. Too pale, too thin, with dark circles under his eyes and a yellow sunflower in his hand but unmistakably, undeniably _Kris_ and Adam stares, heart swelling and the photographers and the fans just fade into the background.

Kris looks a little nervous and a lot shy. He's human-sized and his wings are tucked away and his natural glow is more muted than Adam's ever seen it before. His hair is ruffled up, like he's been running his hands through it and he's chewing his lip. Then he sees Adam and he just lights up (thankfully not noticeably) and he smiles at Adam; the big wide smile that crinkles up the corners of his eyes. He's beautiful, amazing and _right the fuck here_.

Adam doesn't really register how he crosses the space between them. He hears security shouting and the fans screaming but he's focused on Kris whose smile has gone shy as he tips his head up to look at Adam. His eyes are soft, hopeful and Adam crosses the last few feet in one big step.

Kris holds up the sunflower, going a little pink. "So, uh, sorry, I missed the show?"

"Fuck the show," Adam says sincerely and someone giggles behind him. "You're _here_."

"I said I would be," Kris shrugs a little, hand starting to drop and Adam reaches out to curl his fingers around Kris'. Kris glances at their hands and his smile deepens a little.

"You look..." Adam grins at him. "Well, you look like shit. How did Katy let you out of bed already?"

"Didn't give her a choice," Kris admits, looking unrepentant. "She came with me to make sure I didn't, I don't know, fall over and die or something. She says she's tying me to the bed if I fall over, though."

"I'm going to buy her like a whole florist," Adam says, vaguely aware of a flash of golden hair in his peripheral vision. "Or a fruit-basket? What're her feelings on fruit-baskets?"

Kris is laughing,smiling so wide that it almost doesn't fit on his face and someone's calling Adam's name. He ignores them, curling his free hand around the back of Kris' neck and pulling him into a kiss. Kris fits up against him, lips parting and Adam can taste coffee and spearmint and Kris underneath it all. He can feel Kris' heart racing and his hand closing around Adam's hip as he presses up into the kiss and somewhere off to the sides, camera flashes go off like the Fourth of July and fans scream.

Adam doesn't notice.

**Author's Note:**

> Eternal gratitude and love to [](http://deannawol.dreamwidth.org/profile)[**deannawol**](http://deannawol.dreamwidth.org/) and Tacitus, for support, encouragement and beta. Written for [livejournal.com profile] kradambigbang and many thanks to the mods and the rest of the Kradam fandom for being awesome. Extra bonus (and horribly belated) thanks to [](http://allynda.dreamwidth.org/profile)[**allynda**](http://allynda.dreamwidth.org/) for the Yank-pick. ♥ ♥


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